FRIENDS   OF   FREEDOM. 


"It  is  said  that  the  evil  spirytes  that  ben  in  the  regyon,  doubte  moche  when  they 
here  the  Bells  rongen :  and  this  is  the  cause  why  the  Bells  ben  rongen,  whan  grete 
tempeste  and  outrages  of  wether  happen,  to  the  end  that  the  fiends  and  wycked  spirytes 
should  be  abashed  and  flee.  —  The  Golden  Legend,  by  Wynkyn  de  Words. 


BOSTON: 

MASSACHUSETTS    ANTI-SLAVERY   FAIR. 
MDCCCXLVI. 


Boston  :  Andrews,  Prentiss  &  Studley, 
No.  11  Devonshire  Street. 


A  I  i-t,  * 


A  Fragment,          .... 
Onward  !  Right  Onward  ! 
The  True  Reformer,      .       .     '  '.' 

GEORGE    THOMPSON. 
WILLIAM   HOWITT. 
WILLIAM   P.   ATKINSON. 

1 

7 

1-2 
1!) 

••A  Parable,        . 

THEODORE    PARKER. 

at 

The  Poet  of  Miletus,    . 

HENRY   W.   LONGFELLOW. 

gj 

-  Fugitive  Slaves  in  Northern  Ohio, 

J.    R.    CIDDIXGS. 

•77 

Our  Country,     .... 

....•>       .           ANONYMOUS. 

:',7 

Thought,        . 

.       SUSAN   C.   CABOT.. 

40 

Interference,      .... 

.       A  CLERGYMAN. 

47 

AH  are  Needed,    .        .       .       JA 

NE    ELIZABETH   HITCHCOCK. 

50 

-">! 

Letter,      

THOMAS    CLARKSOX. 

SB 

Song,  for  the  Friends  of  Freedom, 

ELIZA   LEE    FOLLEN. 

65 

A  Communication,   . 

HARRIET   MARTINEAtT. 

'••& 

Our  Duty,     

BENJAMIN   3.   JONES. 

72 

Extract  from  a  Speech,     . 

SAMUEL  J.   MAT. 

73 

Sonnets,        

GEORGE   THOMPSON. 

77 

The  Liberty  Bell,      . 

S.   MARGARET   FULLER. 

80 

A  Fragment,         .... 

JANE    E.   HORNBLOWER. 

89 

Pro-Slavery  Appeal, 

JAMES   HAUGHTON. 

:)3 

Jubilee,        .       .       .       ; 

ALLEN   C.    SPOONER. 

103 

Discouragements  and  Incentives, 
Stanzas,   . 

ALLEN   C.    SPOONER. 

:o7 

117 

vi  CONTENTS. 

A  Vision  of  the  Fathers,    ....   JOHN  w.  BROWNE.  120 

A  Remonstrance, ALARIC  A.  WATTS.  131 

The  Dream  within  a  Dream, E.  LEE.  134 

Think  of  the  Slave,        .        .        .        .        .    JOHN  BOWRING.  144 

Self-Denial, WILLIAM  H.  FDRNESS.  146 

..Fight  On! WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON.  165 

Some  Passages  from  the  Poetry  of  Life,        .      MART  HOWITT.  166 

'Sonnet — Character,        .        .          WILLIAM  LLOYD  GARRISON.  184' 

The  Church WENDELL  PHILLIES.  185  • 

Lines  to  Trans-Atlantic  Friends,     ,        .     DANIEL  RICKKTSON.  192 

Recollections  of  Anti-Slavery  at  the  West,       c.  M.  KIRKLAND.  195 

PhffibeMallory;  the  Last  of  the  Slaves,     .    EDMUND  O.UINCY.  204          , 

The  Falconer, j.  R,  LOWELL.  241  \r 

Is  there  any  Friend  ?        .  ADIN  BALLOU.  245 

The  Slave-Mother, MARIA  LOWELL.  250 

What  is  Anti-Slavery  Work  ?         .        .          LUCRETIA  MOTT.  253—' 

"  God  and  Liberty," CASSIUS  M.  CLAY.-  258      - 

Influence  de  1'emigration  Europeenne,        .        .       LINSTANT.  260 

Sonnet  in  Memory  of  Elizabeth  Fry,    ANNE  WARREN  WESTON.  264 

The  Worst  Evil  of  Slavery,       .        .        .     WILLIAM  HOWITT:  265 


Jrcujnunt, 


VERBATIM    ET  LITERATIM    FROM    MY    JOURNAL    IN    UPPER 
INDIA. 

BY     GEORGE      THOMPSON. 

AROUL,  Upper  India,  ) 

Tuesday,  July  4,  1843,  5  o'clock,  A.  M.  J 

I  AM  now  forty  miles  from  Cawnpore,  and 
so  much  nearer  to  the  imperial  city  of  Delhi, 
I  have  had  my  early  cup  of  tea,  and  am  sit- 
ting on  the  outside  of  the  bungalow,  with  my 

book  upon  my  knee,  and  my  inkstand  on  the 

1 


2  EXTRACT    FROM   JOURNAL 

ground.  How  delightful  was  my  journey, 
from  the  time  I  started  from  Cawnpore,  twelve 
hours  ago,  until  it  grew  dark.  The  recent  rain 
made  the  air  truly  delicious.  On  the  outside 
of  the  station  I  passed  through  a  large  native 
bazaar,  belonging  to  the  two  regiments  of  se- 
poys now  at  Cawnpore.  I  was  soon  in  the 
open  country.  How  beautiful  the  evening! 
How  gorgeous  the  sky  after  the  rain ! 

Vapors  more  lovely  than  the  unclouded  sky, 
With  golden  pinnacles  and  snowy  mountains, 
And  billows  purpler  than  the  ocean's,  making 
In  heaven  a  glorious  mockery  of  the  earth  ! 

I  have  enjoyed  no  part  of  my  journey  more 
than  this.  Thanks  to  the  young  officer  at 
Benares,  who  would  make  me  accept  a  copy 
of  Byron's  works.  I  have  been  feasting  upon 
the  contents  of  Murray's  splendid  volume  ever 
since.  As  long  as  I  could  see,  I  sat  up  in  my 
palankeen  reading  the  magnificent  tragedy  of 
Sardanapalus,  ever  and  anon  pausing  to  gaze 


IN    TIPPER    INDIA. 


upon  the  scene  around  me.  Though  accom- 
panied by  more  than  twenty  men,  noisily 
gabbling  or  rudely  singing  in  panting  and 
groaning  accents  to  the  motion  of  the  palan- 
keen, yet  I  felt  myself  alone.  The  sepoy 
passes  and  makes  his  reverential  salaam.  The 
Hindoo  woman,  all  grace  and  serenity,  averts 
her  face,  draws  her  veil  over  her  head  and 
pursues  her  way.  We  stop  at  the  well  that 
the  thirsty  bearers  may  have  water.  I  leave 
my  palankeen  for  a  few  moments,  that  I  may 
survey  the  scene.  The  shepherd  boy  is  driv- 
ing home  his  flock,  lingering  at  intervals  while 
the  sheep  or  the  goats  crop  the  green  blades 
that  lie  scattered  in  their  path.  Beneath  yon 
far-spreading  trees  are  groups  of  travellers, 
who  have  lighted  their  evening  fires,  and  are 
kneading  cakes  for  supper.  The  horses  are 
tethered,  the  bullocks  are  unyoked,  and  there 
stands  the  sagacious  elephant,  making  a  hearty 
meal  of  jungle  grass.  Swarms  of  Pariah  dogs 


4  EXTRACT    FROM   JOURNAL 

are  hovering  round.  We  are  again  upon  the 
road.  The  fires  we  have  left  behind  are  faint- 
ly glimmering  in  the  distance.  The  solitary 
jackal  is  furtively  stealing  across  the  field  for 
the  adjacent  jungle.  Parrots  in  myriads  are 
winging  their  way  to  their  roosting  place.  The 
frogs  are  hoarsely  croaking  in  every  ditch. 
The  stately  adjutant  is  standing  alone  in  the 
centre  of  the  pool  lately  made  by  the  rain. 
The  glorious  sun  is  sinking  fast.  He  is  gone, 
and  the  crescent  moon  has  taken  his  place. 

The  fourth  of  July!  My  mind  is  carried 
back  to  the  scenes  of  1835.  How  vivid  they 
are.  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  I  stood  in  the 
chapel  at  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  and  de- 
livered my  address  against  American  slavery. 
O,  how  I  love  America !  Nothing  can  exceed 
my  affection  for  that  country  save  my  deep 
abhorrence  of  her  slavery.  Let  me  speak  to 
her  from  this  lonely  spot :  — 


IN   UPPER   INDIA.  0 

And  canst  thou,  America,  say  thou  art  free, 

With  the  scourge  in  thy  hand  and  the  slave  on  his  knee? 

And  canst  thou  in  words  of  self-flattery  deal, 

While  in  flesh  thou  canst  traffic,  and  plunder  and  steal  ? 

Thou  art  free  ;  yet  in  fetters  the  vilest  and  worst : 
Thou  art  free,  but  still  slave  to  thy  passions  accurst : 
Thou  art  free  to  do  well,  but  hast  sold  unto  sin 
That  power,  which  used  nobly,  a  world's  praise  might 
win. 

Thou  art  free ;  but  thy  freedom  hath  steeped  thee  in 

crime, 

And  given  thee  a  stain  that  will  linger  through  time ; 
Thou  hast  freedom  abused,  thou  hast  bound  it  to  guilt — 
That  freedom  for  which  thy  sires'  hearts'  blood  was  spilt. 

That  power  which  thy  freedom  so  bravely  achieved, 
Should  the  fetter  have  broken  —  the  captive  relieved  ; 
But  thou  basely  hast  used  it  to  rivet  a  chain 
On  the  sons  of  the  soil  — on  the  field  of  the  slain. 

What  has  Liberty  gained,  then,  by  what  thou  hast  won  ? 
What  gained,  but  disgrace,  and  a  name  she  must  shun  ? 
Thy  freedom  is  selfish,  and  cruel,  and  base  — 
A  libel,  a  scorn,  and  a  curse  to  thy  race  ! 
1* 


6  EXTRACT    FROM  JOURNAL. 

On  this  day  thou  wilt  talk  of  the  chains  thou  hast  worn; 
While  around  thee  three  millions  in  slavery  mourn. 
Thou  wilt  rail  at  the  nation  that  held  thee  in  thrall ; 
Then  banquet  in  many  a  slave  crowded  hall. 

The  nation  whose  fetters  thou  long  since  hast  spurned, 
Has  to  penitence,  mercy,  and  righteousness  turned ; 
Whilst  thou  in  thy  vauntings,  hast  lived  till  this  day, 
To  make  men  in  God's  image  thy  spoil  and  thy  prey. 

But,  let  not  my  censure  descend  upon  those 
Who  cease  not  from  labor  —  who  ask  no  repose  — 
While  their  brethren  in  bondage  continue  to  groan 
And  for  liberty,  silently,  helplessly  moan. 

This  day  is,  with  them,  one  of  fasting  and  prayer  : 
They  are  stricken  with  anguish,  and  burdened  with  care: 
They  pity  the  slave,  and  the  man,  in  his  pride, 
Who  of  liberty  boasts,  with  that  slave  by  his  side. 

Ye  martyr-like  spirits  !  who,  firm  to  your  vow, 
Have  not  fainted  through  years,  and  are  bold  even  now; 
Take  courage  !  for  soon  shall  the  Liberty  Bell, 
Sound  the  advent  of  freedom,  and  slavery's  knell. 


ONWARD  !    RIGHT    ONWARD  ! 


!    Huj!)t  (Dnroarfo! 


BY     W  I  L  1  1  AM     H  O  W  I  T  T  . 

A  little  onward  lend  thy  guiding  hand 

To  these  dark  steps,  a  little  further  on  —  MILTON. 

ONWARD  !  a  little  on  ! 
Oh  ceaseless  language  of  our  restless  lot  ! 

Yes  !  till  we  hence  are  gone, 
Onward  we  press  and  hope  we  know  not  what. 

Onward,  right  onward  still  ! 
For  what  ?  —  To  dream,  —  to  trifle,  —  to  grow 
cold? 

To  lose  life's  first  pure  thrill, 
And  alienate  hearts  for  unsufficing  gold  ? 

To  run  the  petty  round 
Of  petty  wants,  —  of  labor  and  of  ease  ? 

To  pant  for  glory's  sound, 
And  scorn  the  crowd  we  perish  e'en  to  please  ? 


8  ONWARD  !    EIGHT    ONWARD  ! 

To  be  what  most  we  shun  ? 
All  that  we  fear  to  feel,  or  loathe  to  find  ? 

To  yield  up,  one  by  one, 

Life's  gifts,  —  strength,  beauty,  mastership  of 
mind? 

Oh  no !  for  somewhat  more  ! 
Quick  Power  who  still  criest  —  "  On,  through 
fire  or  flood  ! " 

Dwell  in  my  spirit's  core, 
For  He  who  sent  thee  glorious  is  and  good. 

Speed  on !  't  is  not  in  vain ! 
Knowledge  and  boundless  love  are  on  thy  wing. 

Are  we  not  taught  through  pain 
That  man's  frail  heart  is  still  a  holy  thing  ? 

Life  comes  but  once  on  earth ; 
But  once  is  given  the  battle's  glorious  field 

Where  we  may  prove  our  birth 
Is  godlike,  and  for  God  lift  spear  and  shield. 


ONWARD  !    EIGHT    ONWARD  ! 

For  God  and  brother  man 
May  lift  the  shield  and  fight  the  holy  fight 

Which  Christ  himself  began, 
And  hero-saints  have  waged  for  the  right. 

Here  sits  the  slave  in  chains ; 
Here  cry  the  oppressed,  and  here  the  oppres- 
sor stalks 

Proudly  abroad,  and  stains 
With  crime  the  earth  where  suffering  virtue 
walks. 

And  'tis  for  this  we  live !  — 
To  smite  the  oppressor  with  the  words  of 
power : 

To  bid  the  tyrant  give 
Back  to  his  brother  heaven's  allotted  hour. 

To  raise,  to  unloose ;  to  rend 
Sorrows  and  bonds  from  spirit  and  from  limb ; 

To  call  on  God,  and  spend 
The  day  he  gives,  for  Freedom  and  for  Him ! 


10  ONWARD  !    RIGHT    ONWARD  ! 

And  doing  this  we  die !  — 
Done  or  undone,  he  conies  who  never  waits : 

Down  drops  the  day,  and  high 
Lift  themselves  up  the  broad,  eternal  gates. 

And  there  the  expectant  throng  — 
The  great,  the  immortal  throng  of  those  who  win 

Glory  from  vanquished  wrong, 
Crowd  to  the  porch,  and  watch  our  entrance  in. 

And  eagerly  they  ask  — 
"  Where  is  thy  trophy  now  thy  fight  is  o'er  ?  — 

One  trial  and  one  task  — 
How  hast  thou  stood  where  thou  canst  stand 


And  there  is  joy,  or  tears 
And  a  deep  silence,  o'er  a  frustrate  life ; 

O'er  vainly-given  years  ;  — 
A  soul  unhonored  in  the  mortal  strife. 

Then  on !  for  this  we  live !  — 
To  smite  th'  oppressor  with  the  words  of  power : 


ONWARD  !    EIGHT    ONWARD!  11 

To  bid  the  tyrant  give 
Back  to  his  brother  heaven's  allotted  hour. 

And  thou,  oh  God  of  love !  — 
"  A  little  onward  lend  thy  guiding  hand  ! " 

Oh !  stretch  it  from  above, 
That  giant-like  we  for  the  right  may  stand ! 

May  stand,  and  to  the  death 
Dare  tyranny  in  million-marching  hosts, 

And  shout  with  dauntless  breath 
Defiance  to  his  curses  and  his  boasts. 

Then  onward !  till  the  veil 
Of  the  unknown  eternity  be  rent. 

There  shall  no  promise  fail ; 
There  the  true  soul  reap  measureless  content. 

And  most  of  all  in  this  — 
That  it  shall  see  how  surely  all  things  tend 

To  Freedom's  victories  — 
How  men  may  fall,  but  God  lives  to  the  end. 

Clapton,  England. 


12  THE    TRITE    REFORMER. 


Stye  tote  Heformo;. 

BY     WILLIAM     P.     ATKINSON. 

THE  true  Reformer  is  the  man  upon  whose 
mind  the  light  of  great  truths  has  fallen  before 
it  has  reached  the  mass  of  his  fellow-men, 
and  who  feels  called  of  God  to  shed  it  abroad 
into  the  darkness.  Is  this  a  presumptuous 
definition  ?  The  man  who  does  not  yet  realize 
the  darkness,  who  still  yields  to  the  authority 
of  antiquated  error,  who  is  not  strong  enough 
in  his  own  convictions  to  stand  firmly  up  before 
all  the  power  of  numbers,  the  dignity  of  great 
names,  and  the  false  brightness  with  which 
society  gilds  her  errors,  who  cannot  meet  even 
the  wise  and  great  of  his  opponents,  and  hi  all 
modesty,  but  with  all  firmness,  though  he  be 
an  humble  man,  tell  them  of  their  blindness ; 


THE    TRUE    REFORMER.  13 

—  he  who  cannot  do  this,  is  not  himself  reform- 
ed. For  there  is  something  enlightening,  as 
well  as  strengthening  and  ennobling  in  the 
conscientious  holding  of  unpopular  truth.  He 
who  from  his  heart  believes  it,  that  it  is  of 
God,  and  most  precious  to  his  brethren,  though 
they  will  not  receive  it,  his  eyes  are  unsealed 
to  the  reality  of  things ;  he  can  no  longer  be 
cheated  by  their  surface.  In  the  clear  light 
of  high  principle,  all  things  take  their  real 
shape,  and  appear  to  him  in  true  proportions. 
The  palaces  of  pride  dwindle  to  insignificance, 
the  venerable  garb  drops  from  consecrated 
errors,  authority  becomes  an  idle  word,  and 
the  rulers  of  the  world,  brute  force  and  cunning 
intellect,  take  their  true  place,  the  servants  of 
moral  power. 

He  sees  through  the  great  shows  that  are 
all  about  him,  and  can  understand  how  one 
can  chase  a  thousand  and  two  put  ten  thousand 

to  flight,  and  seeing  this,  he  feels  the  dignity, 
2 


14  THE    TRUE    KEFORMER. 

the  sacredness  of  his  position.  He  will  be 
slow  to  descend  from  the  eminence  whereon 
Truth  has  placed  him,  but  in  the  face  of  her 
enemies  he  will  speak  her  words,  and  then 
with  pity,  but  without  fear,  will  stand  then- 
onset,  knowing  how  feeble  they  are. 

Shall  what  has  been  said  be  modified  be- 
cause the  Reformer  is  a  man,  fallible  and 
erring  like  his  opponents?  No,  let  it  stand, 
for  this  does  not  change  its  truth.  For  he  who 
"  above  himself  does  not  erect  himself,"  who 
through  a  pure  life,  and  strenuous  self-denial, 
and  earnest  prayer,  does  not  for  the  time 
become  infallible  in  his  convictions,  strong 
against  the  assaults  even  of  his  own  weak- 
nesses, tempting  him  to  doubt,  he  is  not  yet  a 
true  Reformer.  True,  he  is  a  man,  weak  and 
finite ;  but  let  him  have  put  aside  all  selfish 
ends,  purified  his  mind  from  that  hatred  and 
contempt  of  persons  which  even  a  righteous 
indignation  may  produce,  elevated  himself  to 


THE    TRUE    REFORMER.  15 

the  dignity  of  a  true  lover  of  liis  brethren,  — 
then  in  the  depth  of  his  conviction,  he  may 
say  that  here  is  a  spark  of  truth  which  he  has 
made  his  own.  All  other  knowledge  may  be 
false;  this  is  true;  and  he  will  feel  within 
him  the  authority  to  declare  it.  He  can  hardly 
fail  to  reach  the  truth,  who  seeks  it  so. 

But  yet,  as  he  is  a  man,  feeble  and  fallible, 
and  as  with  his  best  convictions  there  must 
be  some  alloy  of  error,  let  him  above  all  be 
humble;  —  no  thanksgiver  that  he  is  not  as 
other  men,  no  despiser  of  his  brethren  for  their 
littleness  and  sin.  Yet  what  is  this  but  to 
say,  let  him  be  a  Christian  — 

"The  best  of  men 

That  e'er  wore  earth  about  him  was  a  sufferer, 
A  soft,  meek,  patient,  humble,  tranquil  spirit; 
The  first  true  gentle-man  that  ever  breathed." 

True,  when  he  stands  forth  the  champion  of 
the  oppressed,  when  he  pours  the  truth  into 
unwilling  ears,  when  he  rebukes  the  great  in 


16  THE    TRUE    REFORMER. 

high  places,  and  stands  in  the  face  of  danger, 
he  is  great,  and  he  cannot  but  feel  the  dignity 
of  his  mission.  But,  alas  for  him !  he  too  is  a 
man,  and  in  the  recesses  of  his  heart  there  is 
that  may  well  make  him  say, '  not  unto  me ! ' 

He  will  be  humble  then  if  he  is  truly  strong. 
And  true  humility  will  set  him  above  the 
proud,  for  there  is  a  modest  holding  of  the 
truth  which  no  error  can  withstand.  Let  the 
knave,  and  the  coward,  and  the  weak  darken 
counsel  with  many  words ;  they  cannot  bear 
one  firm  and  simple  answer.  It  is  only  the 
weak  who  boast  of  their  strength;  but  the 
strength  of  the  strong  shows  itself  in  every 
muscle  and  the  slightest  movement. 

How  shall  he  treat  his  opponents?  He 
cannot  dwell  forever  in  abstractions.  How 
shall  he  not  bear  testimony  against  his  broth- 
er's sin  ?  Men  can  afford  to  hear  the  praises 
of  virtue  and  the  rebuke  of  abstract  vice,  and 
their  sins  shall  flourish  none  the  less.  Are 


THE    TRUE    REFORMER.  17 

there  not  churches  in  the  land  ?  But  let  him 
bring  home  the  charge,  say  '  thou  art  the  man,' 
call  the  devil  Satan,  his  own  countrymen  men- 
stealers,  their  abettors  false  and  time-servers, 
the  preacher  a  blind  guide  —  and  alas  for  him, 
be  it  never  so  true !  He  has  done  but  his 
duty,  but  fanatic  and  pestilent  fellow  shall  be 
his  mildest  names,  and  persecution  his  reward. 
But  let  him  not  despair.  He  leads  the  world. 
Afar  off,  the  tide  of  moral  life  swells  up  at 
his  rebuke,  and  sooner  or  later  all  men  shall 
follow  him. 

How  will  he  look  upon  the  future  ?  With- 
out fear  and  with  a  firm  trust,  for  he  can  see 
into  the  truth  of  things,  how  weak,  for  all  its 
show,  is  error,  how  baseless,  though  seeming 
never  so  strong,  are  all  institutions  that  are  not 
founded  in  eternal  right.  Noiselessly  shall 
true  religion  pervade  the  world,  finding  a 
home  in  more  and  more  true  hearts,  daily 

increasing  the  army  of  the  good,  wiping  away 
2* 


18  THE    TRUE    REFORMER. 

the  stains  of  evil,  healing  the  wounds  it 
makes,  till  the  world  shall  change,  we  know 
not  how.  Her  visible  and  startling  effects  are 
the  smallest  part  of  her  good  work :  her  strong- 
est influence  is  secret  The  evil  customs  of 
society,  supported  by  authority,  dignified  by 
age,  seeming  so  firm  fixed  that  time  cannot 
move  them,  shall  vanish  at  her  touch,  like  a 
baseless  vision,  and  then  shall  appear  the  new 
heavens  and  the  new  earth  that  once  existed 
only  in  the  Reformer's  dream. 

West  Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


SONNET   TO    W.    L.    GARRISON.  19 


TO    WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON. 
BY     J.     W.     HIGGINSON. 

'Tis  not  that  deeds  like  thine  need  my  poor 

praise, 
When,  though  commending  not  each  word  of 

strife, 

I  yet  would  thank  thee  for  thy  manly  life, 
Thou  rugged  Luther  of  these  latter  days : 
Oh  when  will  men  look  through  thine  ardent 

phrase 

To  the  true  depth  of  that  devoted  heart, 
Where  selfish  hope  or  fear  had  never  part 
To  swerve  thee,  with  the  crowd,  from  Truth's 

plain  ways ! 
When  that  day  comes,    thy  brothers,  wiser 

grown, 


20  SONNET   TO    W.    L.    GARRISON. 

Shall  reverence  struggling  man's  true  friend 

in  thee, 

Thy  life  of  stern  devotion  shall  atone, 
For  some  few  words  that  seemed  too  rough 

to  be, 
And  they  shall  grave  upon  thy  funeral  stone 

"  THIS  MAN  SPOKE  TRUTH  AND  HELPED  US  TO 
GROW  FREE." 

Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


A    PAEABLE.  21 


%  parable. 

BY     THEODORE     PARKER. 

WHEN  Ishmael  was  a  young  man,  mother- 
less and  an  outcast,  with  no  wife,  nor  child  nor 
friend  —  he  rode  on  his  only  camel  laden  with 
dates  and  corn,  a  few  figs  and  ripe  olives, 
cummin  and  precious  seeds,  journeying  alone 
through  the  desert  to  the  fair  of  Shurat.  But 
his  camel  died  in  the  wilderness ;  and  for 
many  a  day's  journey  did  he  wander  on,  bare- 
foot and  hungry,  a  ruined  man,  leaving  his  corn, 
his  seeds,  and  all  his  fortune  to  perish  there. 
"  This  place  is  accursed  and  God  hath  forsaken 
me,"  said  Ishmael ;  and  he  called  the  name 
thereof  Me-au-rer ;  "  for  it  BRINGETH  A  CURSE," 
said  he.  The  sun  burnt  him ;  his  lips  were 
parched  with  thirst  —  he  could  not  speak  —  yet 


22  A    PARABLE. 

he  died  not,  but  reached  at  last  the  hospitable 
tent  of  Joktan. 

Years  passed  on.  Ishmael  became  a  patri- 
arch, rich,  the  father  of  many  strong  ones.  He 
travelled  once  again,  in  old  age,  with  his  wives 
and  his  children  and  his  children's  children  — 
men  servants,  and  maidens,  and  a  multitude  of 
camels  —  an  exceeding  great  company,  cross- 
ing the  desert  to  go  into  the  land  of  the  Sa- 
beans  to  die  there.  And  lo,  the  hot  wind  of 
the  desert  came  upon  them ;  the  water  dried 
up  in  their  leathern  bottles.  They  were  like 
to  perish  of  thirst.  The  young  men  and  the 
maidens  cried  in  their  agony  towards  God. 
The  old  men  bowed  themselves  and  were 
silent,  awaiting  the  stroke  of  the  Lord.  The 
moan  of  the  strong  camels  —  it  was  terrible  to 
hear,  as  they  wandered,  crying  unto  God  for 
lack  of  drink. 

A  day's  journey  of  despair  they  travelled 
on,  and  came  to  a  green  forest  with  date-trees 


A    PARABLE.  23 

and  corn,  figs  and  olives,  green  grass  and  a 
running  well.  They  sat  down  and  were  re- 
freshed —  yea  they  drank  and  their  hearts  lived 
once  more  within  them.  But  as  Ishmael,  now 
heavy  with  years,  slept  after  his  fatigue,  at 
noonday,  behold  that  same  angel  who  had 
appeared  and  led  Hagar  to  the  well  in  the 
desert  —  the  WELL  OP  GOD'S  SEEING  ME  — 
came  and  stood  before  him  in  his  sleep  and 
said,  "  Son  of  Abraham,  rememberest  thou  thy 
camel  that  perished?"  And  Ishmael  awoke, 
for  he  remembered  it  was  here  !  He  saw  that 
out  of  the  corn,  the  dates,  the  few  figs,  the  ripe 
olives,  the  cummin,  and  the  precious  seeds, 
so  providentially  lost,  this  cluster  of  fruit 
trees  had  arisen,  and  these  fields  of  grass  and 
corn.  He  blessed  God,  and  said,  "  Were  it 
not  for  the  misfortune  of  my  youth,  I  had  been 
ruined  in  my  old  age,  and  this  great  people  with 
me.  "Wonderful  are  the  ways  of  the  Lord ! " 


24  A    PARABLE. 

And  he  called  the  name  of  the  place  Kol-Ma- 
as-eh-El  —  for  he  said  it  is  ALL  GOD'S  WORK. 
And  there  Ishmael  rested  from  his  labors  — 
and  his  tomb  is  there  unto  this  day. 

West-Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


THE    POET    OF    MILETUS.  25 


(&[)*  $oet  of  Jfliktti0. 

BY     HENRY     W.     LONGFELLOW. 

IN  ancient  days,  when  in  the  Ionian  land, 

The  poet  of  Miletus,  unto  whom 

The  Ephesians   gave  three  thousand  golden 

pieces 

For  singing  them  one  song,  desired  to  add 
Four  chords  unto  the  seven-chorded  lyre, 
That  he  might  give  a  more  complete  expression 
To  all  the  feelings  struggling  at  his  heart, 
He  was  forbidden  by  the  popular  vote. 
This  happened  some  three  centuries  before 

Christ ! 

Here,  too,  the  popular  voice  forbids  the  poet 
To  add  a  single  chord  unto  his  lyre, 
Although  he  takes  no  gold  from  the  Ephesians, 


26  THE    POET    OF    MILETUS. 

And  would  but  give  an  utterance  move  com- 
plete 

To  all  the  voices  of  humanity, 
Even  the  swart  Ethiop's  inarticulate  woe. 
And  this  is  eighteen  centuries  after  Christ ! 

Cambridge,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


FUGITIVE    SLAVES.  27 


Qicwts  in  3for%rn  (Dljto. 


BY     J.      R.      GIDDINGS. 

IT  was  on  a  pleasant  evening  in  the  month 
of  May,  A.  D.  1840,  just  as  the  sun  had  sunk 
from  view,  when  the  laborers  were  returning 
from  their  fields,  that  a  husband,  wife,  and  two 
children  on  foot,  with  wearied  steps  were  seen 
entering  the  village  of  -  in  northern  Ohio. 
The  oldest  child  was  a  lad  of  some  fourteen, 
the  other  a  daughter  apparently  two  years  his 
junior.  Each  carried  a  small  bundle  of  what 
appeared  to  be  clothing.  From  their  dusky 
complexions,  their  anxious  countenances,  and 
their  tattered  dresses  it  was  apparent  that  they 
were  fleeing  from  the  land  of  bondage. 

The  people  of  the  village  were  noted  for 
their  sympathy  for  the  down-trodden  slave.  It 


28  FUGITIVE    SLAVES 

was  known  for  hundreds  of  miles  as  an  asylum 
for  the  panting  fugitive.  The  friends  of 
humanity  would  direct  his  course  to  this,  as  a 
place  of  safety  from  the  rapacious  slave-holder, 
and  the  despicable  slave-catcher.  These  facts 
were  also  known  to  the  owners  of  slaves  in 
Virginia  and  Kentucky.  When  they  once 
learned  that  their  locomotive  property  had 
directed  its  course  to  this  village,  they  usually 
gave  up  the  pursuit  altogether,  or  came  hither 
for  it  without  further  inquiry,  hoping  that  by 
some  means  they  might  succeed  in  arresting 
their  victims  even  in  this  citadel  of  liberty. 
So  on  the  present  occasion,  the  owner  of  the 
family  to  which  I  have  introduced  the  reader, 
having  found  that  the  objects  of  his  pursuit  had 
bent  their  course  directly  for  the  village  in 
question,  made  no  further  stop  for  inquiry,  but 
with  his  two  assistants  drove  with  all  possible 
speed  to  the  very  place  where  the  fugitive 
family  had  believed  themselves  safe  from  his 


IN    NORTHERN    OHIO.  29 

fangs.  In  the  mean  time,  the  father,  mother, 
and  their  little  ones,  on  their  first  arrival  were 
welcomed  to  the  house  of  a  well-known  friend 
of  humanity,  and,  after  being  duly  refreshed, 
were  conducted  in  the  darkness  of  the  evening 
to  a  neighboring  house  to  lodge.  This  was 
done  to  prevent  all  trace  of  their  whereabouts. 
But  it  so  happened  that  even  here,  there  were 
those  whose  tender  sympathies  are  all  in  favor 
of  the  slaveholder,  and  are  ready  at  all  times 
to  advocate  the  right  of  the  oppressor  to  his 
property,  in  the  bodies  of  their  fellow-men. 
One  of  these  had  watched  the  movements  of 
the  friends  of  humanity,  and  when  the  slave- 
holder and  his  assistants  arrived,  at  one  or  two 
o'clock  the  next  morning,  they  found  him  in  the 
road,  ready,  for  a  small  compensation,  to  con- 
duct them  to  the  building  in  which  the  fugitive 
family  were  sleeping.  Throwing  him  two  or 
three  dollars,  without  alighting,  they  desired 
him  to  point  out  the  dwelling  where  the  slaves 


30  FUGITIVE    SLAVES 

might  be  found.  Gathering  up  the  price  of 
his  perfidy,  without  any  farther  remark  he 
passed  on  before  them,  and  stopping,  silently 
pointed  them  to  the  door,  and  then,  as  if  con- 
scious of  his  guilt,  disappeared  and  hid  himself 
from  view  in  his  own  bed-room.  One  of  the 
slave-hunters  remained  with  their  horses,  as  if 
conscious  that  their  property  was  not  safe  in  a 
land  where  a  man  could  be  hired  to  betray  his 
fellow-man ;  while  the  other  two,  with  pistols 
and  bowie-knives  in  hand,  entered  the  dwell- 
ing and  demanded  their  slaves.  Thus  sud- 
denly aroused  from  their  slumbers,  the  inmates 
were  dismayed  at  the  loud  threats  with  which 
they  were  saluted.  They  regarded  escape  as 
impossible,  and  suffered  themselves  to  be 
seized  and  bound,  and  in  less  time  than  I  have 
occupied  in  relating  these  facts,  they  were  on 
their  way  toward  a  land  of  bondage.  I  will 
leave  my  readers  to  imagine  the  horror  of  these 
parents  as  they  were  thus  compelled  to  turn 


IN    NORTHERN    OHIO.  31 

their  footsteps  towards  the  scene  of  their 
former  degradation,  and,  in  contemplation,  to 
behold  themselves  and  children  sold  to  the  far 
South,  destined  to  drag  out  a  miserable  exist- 
ence upon  the  cotton  or  sugar  plantations  of 
Mississippi  or  Louisiana. 

But  the  news  of  their  escape  spread  rapidly 
through  the  village.  There  were,  at  the  time 
of  which  we  speak,  several  families  of  colored 
people  residing  there.  Some  of  these  had 
worn  the  galling  chains  of  slavery,  and  all  had 
witnessed  its  horrors.  Some  fifteen  or  twenty 
colored  men  and  boys  suddenly  collected 
together,  and  some  of  them,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  armed  themselves  with  guns, 
pistols  and  other  weapons.  A  proposition  to 
pursue  the  menstealers  was  made ;  and,  as  if 
actuated  by  one  common  impulse,  all  immedi- 
ately started  at  full  speed  after  their  captured 
brethren. 


32  FUGITIVE     SLAVES 

The  slave -catchers,  with  their  captives,  had 
not  proceeded  more  than  three  or  four  miles 
before  they  were  overtaken  by  the  colored 
people ;  and  from  the  excitement  apparent 
among  them,  and  from  their  menacing  tones, 
judged  it  prudent  to  seek  safety  in  the  first 
house  which  they  could  reach.  Here  they 
entered  with  their  captives,  and  barring  the 
door,  threatened  death  to  the  first  colored  man 
who  should  enter.  The  house  was  immedi- 
ately surrounded,  guards  were  posted,  and  a 
regular  siege  commenced.  The  night  wore 
away,  and  when  the  morning  dawned,  it 
showed  to  the  besieged  a  large  increase  in  the 
number  of  their  enemies,  but  it  exhibited  to 
them  no  prospect  of  escape.  No  white  man 
appeared  to  lend  them  succor :  and  the  exas- 
peration of  the  blacks  appeared  to  increase  with 
their  numbers,  and  with  the  prospect  of  releas- 
ing their  brethren  from  the  grasp  of  their  per- 
secutors. Time  continued  to  roll  on,  and  the 


IN    NORTHERN    OHIO.  33 

sun  had  nearly  attained  its  meridian,  when  a 
man  of  small  stature,  bright  hazle  eye,  of  sober 
countenance  and  sedate  manners  rode  up,  and 
engaged  in  conversation  with  the  colored 
people  outside  of  the  building.  Soon  after  he 
applied  at  the  door  for  entrance,  and  was  gladly 
admitted. 

When  he  had  introduced  himself  to  the 
slaveholders,  he  assured  them  of  their  perfect 
safety  while  he  was  with  them ;  told  them  that 
he  would  protect  them  if  they  would  accom- 
pany him  to  the  seat  of  justice  for  the  county, 
where  they  might  have  a  legal  trial  of  their 
right  to  hold  the  fugitives,  with  the  benefit  of 
counsel.  The  offer  was  gladly  accepted  and 
they  were  soon  under  way  for  the  place  pro- 
posed. When  they  arrived  at  the  seat  of 
justice,  they  employed  the  only  lawyer  that 
could  be  found  to  espouse  the  cause  of  oppres- 
sion, and  the  parties  immediately  appeared 
before  a  magistrate  for  the  purpose  of  deter- 


34  FUGITIVE    SLAVES 

mining  the  claim  of  this  Kentuckian  to  the 
bodies  of  the  father  and  mother  and  children 
in  question.  Our  friend,  whom  we  introduced 
to  the  reader  at  the  besieged  house,  appeared 
as  counsel  for  the  fugitives.  He  had  long 
been  known  as  a  zealous  advocate  of  liberty, 
and  had  often  stood  by  those  charged  with  the 
offence  of  loving  freedom  better  than  slavery. 
He  was  not  unprepared  on  the  present  occa- 
sion ;  ready  and  able  on  all  points  touching  the 
matter  in  question,  he  soon  showed  his  oppo- 
nents that  they  had  others  than  slaves  to  deal 
with.  The  slaveholder  found  himself  unable 
to  prove  his  claim  and  the  captives  were 
discharged.  They  then  partook  of  such  re- 
freshments as  their  friends  provided  for  them, 
and  a  small  donation  was  made  to  pay  their 
expenses  across  the  lake,  and  in  less  than 
twenty-four  hours  they  were  treading  the  free 
soil  of  Canada. 

Not  so  with  their  persecutors.     The  friends 


IN    NORTHERN    OHIO.  35 

of  liberty  felt  the  necessity  of  setting  an  exam- 
ple that  should  deter  other  slave-hunters  from 
committing  such  outrages  in  future  in  that 
quiet  region.  The  owner  and  his  two  assist- 
ants were  charged  with  an  assault  and  battery 
committed  upon  the  persons  of  the  parents  and 
children  of  whom  we  have  spoken.  They 
were  accordingly  arraigned  and  ordered  to  find 
bail  for  their  appearance  at  the  next  Court  of 
Common  Pleas,  or  to  be  committed  for  the 
want  of  such  bail.  By  the  aid  of  their  lawyer 
bail  was  procured  and  they  started  with  heavy 
hearts  for  Kentucky,  to  remain  there  some  six 
weeks  and  then  to  return  and  defend  them- 
selves for  thus  laying  hands  upon  their  fellow 
men  within  the  jurisdiction  of  Ohio  laws. 
Their  vexation  and  mortification  was  un- 
bounded. But  their  profane  railings  were  of 
little  use ;  their  bonds  were  signed,  and  could 
only  be  cancelled  by  their  appearance  in  Court. 
In  due  time  they  set  out  on  their  return  to 


36  FUGITIVE    SLAVES. 

Ohio.     When    they  reached    the    village   of 

M the   owner  of  the   slaves  was   taken 

severely  ill  and  died  in  a  few  days.  His 
assistants  proceeded  to  the  place  at  which  they 
were  bound  to  appear,  where  one  of  them 
was  taken  sick  and  was  confined  for  a  long 
time.  The  other  made  his  appearance  in  Court 
with  a  most  rueful  countenance,  and  apparent 
dejection  of  spirits. 

These  judgments  of  a  righteous  Providence 
having  fallen  so  heavily  upon  the  slave-catch- 
ers, and  their  intended  victims  being  now  in  a 
land  of  safety,  the  prosecuting  attorney,  after 
consulting  with  the  Court  and  with  some  of  the 
leading  Philanthropists  of  the  County,  entered 
a  "  nolle  prosequi "  upon  the  indictment,  and 
the  two  living  defendants  were  discharged. 
Since  that  time  few  slave-hunters  have  been 
seen  in  "  Northern  Ohio." 

Jefferson,  Ashtabula  Co.,  Ohio. 


OUR   COUNTRY.  37 


Cotmtrj). 


MY  friend,  what  sordid  days  of  dross  are  these, 
Of  coward  cringing,  and  of  cheap  content  ; 
The  nation  raging,  like  a  hive  of  bees, 
Its  dignity  in  noisiest  sallies  spent  ! 

I  thought  to  have  beheld,  as  Judah  saw 

Her  youngest  victor  shamed  with  glorious  tears, 

The  David  of  the  nations,  far  withdraw 

His  youth  sublime  from  basest  hopes  and  fears. 

I  thought  to  have  beheld  his  serious  eyes 
Looking  the  hero  of  the  world's  spent  field, 
With  Israel's  holiness  and  the  grace  which  lies 
Lost  in  the  chisel  Athens  used  to  wield. 

Could  the  wild  seed,  cast  by  Oppression's  flail 
On  sea-beat  shores  but  germinate  for  this  ? 


38  OUR   COUNTRY. 

The  men  of  iron  in  their  children  fail  ?  — 
Betrayed  the  world's  Deliverer  by  a  kiss  ? 

Speech,  which    outruns  performance,  craves 

contempt ; 

True  Greatness  points  to  acts  in  silent  pride. 
The  Right,  from  fear  of  judgment  is  exempt, 
Content  Truth's  tardy  verdict  to  abide. 

Men  had  a  grandeur  in  the  olden  time, 
A  river  freely  winding  at  its  will ; 
And  if,  at  times,  it  darkened  into  crime, 
The  force  of  nature  left  it  grandeur  still. 

Now  thought  is  cisterned  in  the  market-place, 
Whence   petty  conduits  run  to   each  man's 

breast ; 
Now  one  low  vice    infects,  throughout,  the 

race, 
One  man's  small  virtue  echoes  through  the 

rest 


OUR   COUNTRY.  39 

The  lofty  thought,  which  spreads  its  arms  to 

air, 

Fed  by  the  silent  dews  of  loneliest  woods, 
Till  its  vast  crown  hangs  in  the  dazzling  glare, 
And  o'er  the  landscape  wide,  majestic  broods 

Is  smothered  by  the  undergrowth  around, 
Content,  as  saplings,  if  no  oak  be  there : 
Stems,  which  might  soar,  now  trail  along  the 

ground ; 
No  robin  sings  there,  gilds  no  sunbeam  fair. 


BY      SUSAN     C.     CABOT. 

WHAT  does  Thought  do  for  us? 

This  question  suggests  itself  when  we  see 
how  much  has  been  done  by  Thought  in  one 
direction,  and  how  little  in  another.  When 
we  see  how  little  advance  Thought  has  made 
in  the  moral  world,  compared  with  her  pro- 
gress in  the  physical  and  intellectual  one,  we 
feel  that  she  has  been  cheated  of  her  birth- 
right, and  that  something  must  be  done  to 
arouse  her  to  claim  her  title-deeds.  While  by 
means  of  her  great  instrumentality,  science 
has  brought  the  stars  to  our  feet,  and  carried 
us,  as  on  eagles'  wings,  to  the  remote  corners 
of  the  earth,  what  has  she  accomplished  in 
the  moral  world  ?  What  has  she  even  begun  ? 
While  the  fact  still  remains  that  we  are  in  a 


THOUGHT.  41 

land  of  slavery,  still,  like  Cain,  taking  our 
brother's  blood !  not  from  the  instigation  of 
envy,  because  we  think  we  have  not  our  just 
share  of  the  favor  of  heaven,  but  from  the 
wish  to  have  more  than  our  share.  Can 
Thought  have  anything  to  do  with  this?  No,  it 
would  be  denying  her  divinity  to  say  it :  passion 
and  selfishness  may,  but  cool  Thought  never. 

Why  should  not  the  moral  world,  like  the 
physical,  also  have  her  trophies,  won  from 
the  field  of  Thought  ?  While  steam-ships,  and 
railroads,  and  balloons,  are  filling  earth,  sea 
and  sky,  shall  there  not  arise  greater  wonders 
in  the  moral  universe  ?  Shall  not  self-sacri- 
cing  devotion  turn  iron  chains  into  silken  cords 
of  love,  prison-bars  into  gentle  persuasion,  and, 
at  one  word,  people  God's  free  earth  with 
millions  of  free  men,  changing  them  from 
chattels  into  sons  of  God  ? 

How  is  it  that  Thought  is  so  shy  as  she  takes 

her  rounds  in  the  world  within  ?     Why,  when 

4* 


42  THOUGHT. 

she  approaches  the  holy  of  holies,  which  is  to 
be  laid  open  at  the  last  day,  why  will  she  not 
take  courage  and  enter  there  and  find  out  the 
secrets  of  this  hidden  chamber,  where  is  kept 
the  book  of  life  ? 

Surely  the  slave-holder,  who  makes  laws 
upon  laws  that  he  may  live  securely  and 
make  money,  has  kept  strict  watch  that  the 
most  secret  place  in  his  soul  shall  be  made 
secure  against  this  intruder,  Thought,  or  he 
never  could  lie  down  in  his  bed  with  the  echo 
still  in  his  ears  of  those  cries  which  rise  up 
from  the  heart  of  the  poor  being  whom  he  has 
robbed  of  his  birth-right,  without  asking  him- 
self by  what  right  he  does  this.  If  Thought 
came  to  him  here,  would  she  not  say,  "  How 
dare  you  do  this  great  wickedness  ?  How  can 
you  so  burthen  your  soul,  that  it  cannot  mount 
above  this  earth  —  wet  with  the  blood,  and 
ringing  with  the  sounds  of  the  broken-hearted, 
the  helpless,  and  the  dying ;  and  this  all  the 


THOUGHT.  43 

work  of  your  hands !  Upon  this  defiled  soil 
must  your  soul  linger ;  your  soul,  bom  for  the 
skies,  born  to  live  forever  in  the  fulness  of  an 
eternal  life  !  Can  you  expect  that  a  God  of 
justice  can  receive  and  own  you  for  his  child? 
Take  me  into  your  holy  of  holies  and  let  me 
there  stay  till  I  have  moved  the  face  of  the  great 
deep  within  you,  and  shown  you  that  not  this 
earth,  but  the  heavens  above,  are  to  be  reflect- 
ed in  you ;  that  you  are  to  become  an  angel, 
ready  for  acts  of  mercy,  and  a  messenger  of 
the  Most  High.  O  bar  me  out  no  longer !  you 
have  lived  too  long  without  me ;  know  that  I 
come  from  the  Everlasting  One,  whose  just 
laws  cannot  be  broken  without  a  fearful  look- 
ing for  of  judgment.  It  cannot  be  that  you 
have  intended  to  do  this  great  wrong;  that 
you  have  meant  to  break  the  loving  hearts  of 
so  many  of  God's  children;  that  you  have 
meant  to  take  from  the  arms  of  the  mother 
the  child  that  God  has  given  her ;  from  the 


44  THOUGHT. 

wife  the  husband,  who  was  to  work  with  her 
to  bring  up  this  child  to  the  knowledge  that  it 
is  an  immortal  being !  Why  make  use  of  me 
only  to  further  your  earth-bound  plans  ?  Let 
me  awaken  you  from  this  sleep  before  it 
becomes  the  sleep  of  death,  and  rouse  you  to 
the  fact  that  the  abundant  crops  of  cotton  and 
sugar  that  start  from  the  ground  wet  with  the 
tears  and  blood  of  your  fellow-men,  will  not 
serve  you  in  that  great  day  when  alone  with 
me  and  your  God.  Now,  I  come  to  you  as  a 
friend,  praying  you  to  bear  with  me  for  a 
season,  to  let  me  tell  you  the  whole  truth ;  but 
then,  on  that  day,  I  shall  come  before  you  as 
your  accuser  and  judge." 

There  have  always  been  some  pure  spirits 
to  awaken  Thought,  and  to  keep  her  in  mind 
of  her  celestial  birth  and  mission ;  some  wit- 
nesses that  her  works  are  to  outreach  the 
visible  heavens.  Let  such  keep  the  high 
places  in  faith,  knowing  that  if  they  are  not 


THOUGHT.  45 

discerned  from  beneath  there  are  watchful 
eyes  above  that  ever  keep  guard  over  them. 
Is  it  pride,  or  passion,  or  selfishness,  or  the 
love  of  this  world  or  its  honors,  that  have 
aroused  and  bound  together  those  who  have 
taken  into  their  souls  the  great  thought  that, 
however  usage  or  prejudice  or  the  sanction  of 
the  great  and  powerful  uphold  slavery,  it  still 
is  a  crime,  and  must  be  done  away,  unless 
the  laws  of  God  and  his  Son  are  false  ?  This 
thought,  brooded  over  in  a  small  upper  room 
till  it  became  a  word  to  be  carried  into  act  at 
all  hazards,  was  the  beginning  of  that  noble 
company,  who,  willing  to  take  all  abuse  so 
long  as  the  great  work  of  redemption  is  going 
on,  have  brought  many  to  think,  and  by  this 
have  brought  them  nearer  to  the  world  of 
spirits,  and  are  themselves  inspired  with  the 
great  hope  that  their  labors  are  not  in  vain  for 
the  redemption  of  our  country  from  her  deep 
stain  of  slavery.  Give  me  a  great  thought 


46  THOUGHT. 

said  Herder,  when  he  was  on  the  confines  of 
the  two  worlds.  We  are,  at  all  times,  on  this 
confine;  and  should  always  pray  for  some 
great  thought,  to  carry  us  into  the  eternity 
of  great  actions. 

West  Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


INTERFERENCE.  47 


Interference. 


ON      READING      A      PAPER,      IN      DEFENCE      OF      SLAVERY, 


A  TRAVELLER  fell  among  the  thieves 
He  was  crushed  like  Autumn  leaves : 
He  was  beaten  like  the  sheaves 
Upon  the  threshing-floor. 

There,  upon  the  public  way, 
In  the  shadowless  heat  of  day, 
Bleeding,  stripped  and  bound  he  lay, 
And  seemed  to  breathe  no  more. 

Void  of  hope  was  he,  when  lo  ! 
On  his  way  to  Jericho, 
Came  a  priest,  serene  and  slow, 
His  journey  just  begun. 


48  INTERFERENCE. 

Many  a  silver  bell  and  gem 
Glittered  on  his  harness  hem ; 
Behind  him  gleamed  Jerusalem, 
In  the  unclouded  sun. 

Broad  were  his  phylacteries, 
And  his  calm  and  holy  eyes 
Looked  above  earth's  vanities, 
And  gazed  upon  the  sky. 

He  the  suffering  one  descried, 
But,  with  saintly  looks  of  pride, 
Passed  by  on  the  other  side, 
And  left  him  there  to  die. 

Then  approached  with  reverend  pace, 
One  of  the  elected  race, 
The  chosen  ministers  of  grace, 
Who  bore  the  ark  of  God. 

He  a  Levite  and  a  high 
Exemplar  of  humanity, 


INTERFERENCE.  49 

Likewise  passed  the  sufferer  by, 
Even  as  the  dust  he  trod. 

Then  came  a  Samaritan, 
A  despised,  rejected  man. 
Outlawed  by  the  Jewish  ban 
As  one  in  bonds  to  sin. 

- 
He  beheld  the  poor  man's  need, 

Bound  his  wounds,  and  with  all  speed 
Set  him  on  his  own  good  steed, 
And  brought  him  to  the  inn. 

When  our  Judge  shall  reappear 
Thinkest  thou  this  man  will  hear 
"  Wherefore  didst  thou  interfere 
With  what  concerned  not  thee  ? " 

No  !  the  words  of  Christ  will  run, 
"  Whatsoever  thou  hast  done 
To  this  poor  and  suffering  one 

That  hast  thou  done  to   me  ! " 
5 


50  ALL  ARE    NEEDED. 


ail  an  Jfatelr. 

BY     J  A  !S  E     ELIZABETH     HITCHCOCK. 

IN  converting  the  imbedded  marble  into  a 
magnificent  temple,  with  massive  walls,  beau- 
tiful columns,  and  crowning  capitals,  the 
services  of  the  architect  and  the  mason,  the 
bold  and  skilful  hand  of  the  sculptor,  and  the 
aid  of  him  who  quarries  the  marble  —  who 
disengages  each  block  from  the  mass,  are  all 
necessary  to  its  completion.  It  is  a  work  of 
labor  and  of  time.  The  rude  and  shapeless 
material  appears  unseemly,  but  when  the 
edifice  is  completed  it  fills  the  beholder  with 
delight.  The  sound  of  the  heavy  blows,  the 
drilling  and  the  blasting  in  the  quarry,  the 
harsh  grating  of  the  saw,  and  the  ringing  of 
the  chisel,  may  have  fallen  unpleasantly  upon 


ALL    ARE    NEEDED.  51 

the  sensitive  nerves  of  him  who  contemplates 
this  work  of  art  and  taste ;  but  were  it  not  for 
these,  the  temple  never  would  have  been 
erected. 

So  in  a  moral  enterprize,  the  services  of 
mauy  are  needed ;  the  bold  architect  to  con- 
ceive the  glorious  design,  some  to  separate 
from  the  mass  of  universal  mind  the  individ- 
ual fragments,  others  whose  patient  industry 
brings  each  into  a  fitting  shape,  and  they  who 
with  skilful  hand  fashion  the  whole  into  a 
form  of  spiritual  beauty.  He  performs  no  less 
important  service  in  erecting  the  temple  of 
freedom,  whose  startling  tones  awaken  the 
guilty  conscience  of  the  oppressor,  than  he 
who  leads  the  repentant  spirit  onward  and 
upward,  and  inspires  it  with  a  love  of  univer- 
sal liberty.  He  who  arrests  public  attention, 
and  elicits  sympathy  in  behalf  of  the  oppress- 
ed, labors  as  effectually  for  that  end  as  he 
who  teaches  the  heaven-born  principle  of  the 


52  ALL    ARE    NEEDED. 

brotherhood  of  man.  Kind  and  gentle  lan- 
guage, bold  and  forcible  speech,  severe  and 
terrible  rebuke  are  all  useful  and  necessary, 
and  he  who  uses  the  latter  does  as  much, 
perhaps,  towards  regenerating  mankind,  as  his 
fellow-laborer  who  uses  mild  and  persuasive 
arguments. 

As  in  the  marble  there  is  only  now  and  then 
a  block  which  is  suitable  for  a  corner-stone 
or  a  pedestal,  a  key-stone  or  a  capital,  so  in 
society  there  is  only  now  and  then  a  spirit 
which  is  susceptible  of  a  separate  and  individ- 
ual existence ;  only  now  and  then  one  that  can 
be  fashioned  into  an  independent  body,  and 
fitted  for  a  prominent  place.  But  ah1  others  are 
equally  useful.  In  the  erection  of  the  great 
temple  of  freedom,  each  will  occupy  an  im- 
portant position,  and  the  labor  of  every  work- 
man will  be  available. 

Let  not  him,  then,  who  goes  forward  and 
performs  the  perilous  service  of  subduing  the 


ALL    ARE    NEEDED.  53 

flinty  heart,  undervalue  the  influence  of  him 
who  leads  a  true  and  beautiful  life  in  the 
quiet  and  retirement  of  his  own  home.  And 
let  not  him  of  the  mild  and  gentle  manner, 
whose  spiritual  power  hallows  all  within  its 
circle,  imparting  vitality  and  character  and 
beauty  to  his  work,  deprecate  the  noise  and 
the  strife,  the  thunder-tone  and  the  earth- 
quake-shock in  the  distance.  But  let  all 
labor,  each  in  his  own  way  and  in  his  own 
appropriate  field,  and  in  due  time  that  glori- 
ous temple  shall  be  erected,  which  shall  give 
shelter  and  protection  to  every  suffering  child 
of  humanity. 

Salem,  Ohio,  U.  S. 


54 


BY     THEODORE     PARKER. 

I. 
JESUS    THERE    IS    NO    NAME    SO    DEAR    AS    THINE. 

JESUS  there  is  no  name  so  dear  as  thine 
Which  Time  has  blazoned  on  his  ample  scroll ; 
No  wreaths  nor  garlands  ever  did  entwine 
So  fair  a  temple  of  so  vast  a  soul ; 
There  every  angel  set  his  triumph  seal, 
Wisdom  combined  with  Strength  and  radiant 

Grace 

In  a  sweet  copy  Heaven  to  reveal, 
And  stamp  PERFECTION  on  a  mortal  face  : 
Once  oa  the  Earth  wert  thou,  before  men's 

eyes, 
That  could  not  half  thy  beauteous  brightness 

see, 
E'en  as  the  emmet  cannot  read  the  skies, 


SONNETS.  55 

Nor  our  weak  orbs  look  through  immensity ; 
Once  on  the  Earth  wert  thou  —  a  living  shrine, 
Wherein    conjoining  dwelt  —  the    GOOD,   the 
LOVELY,  the  DIVINE. 


ii. 

OH    THOU    GREAT    FRIEND    TO    ALL    THE    SONS    OF    MEN. 

OH  thou  great  Friend  to  all  the  sons  of  men, 
Who  once  appeared  in  humblest  guise  below, 
Sin  to  rebuke  and  break  the  captive's  chain, 
To   call   thy  brethren  forth  from  Want  and 

Woe,— 
Thee  would   I  sing.    Thy  Truth  is  still   the 

LIGHT 
Which  guides  the  nations  —  groping  on  their 

way, 

Stumbling  and  falling  in  disastrous  night, 
Yet  hoping  ever  for  the  perfect  day : 
Yes !  thou  art  still  the  LIFE  ;  thou  art  the  WAY 


56  SONNETS. 

The  holiest  know,  —  Light,  Life  and  Way  of 

Heaven ! 

And  they  who  dearest  hope,  and  deepest  pray, 
Toil  by  the  Light,   Life,   Way  which   thou 

hast  given. 

And  by  thy  Truth  aspiring  mortals  trust 
T'  uplift  their  faint  and  bleeding  Brothers  res- 
cued from  the  dust. 


in. 

DEAR   JESCS    WERE    THY    SPIRIT    NOW    ON    EARTH. 

DEAR  Jesus  were  thy  spirit  now  on  Earth, 
Where  thou  hast  prayed  and  toiled  a  world  to 

win,  — 

What  vast  ideas  would  sudden  rise  to  birth, 
What  strong  endeavors  'gainst  o'errnastering 

Sin! 

Thy  blest  beatitudes  again  thou  'dst  speak ; 
But  with  deep-hearted  words  that  scorch  like 

fire, 


SONNETS.  57 

Wouldst  thou  rebuke  the  oppressors  of  the 

weak : 

Or,  turning  thence  to  Prophets  that  aspire, 
How  wouldst  thou  cheer  the   men  who  toil 

to  save 

Their  Brothers  smarting  'neath  a  despot's  rod, 
To  lift  the  Poor,  the  Fallen,  and  the  Slave, 
And  lead  them  all  alive  to  worship   God  ! 
Bigots  wouldst  thou  rebuke  —  that  idle  stand, 
But   send   thy   Gospel-fraught  Apostles   con- 
quering through  the  land. 

West  Koxbury,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


53     LETTER.  FROM  THOMAS  CLARKSON. 


€lark0on. 


PLAYFORD  HALL,  near  Ipswich,  Oct.  3,  1845. 

DEAR  MADAM  : 

I  RECEIVED  your  last  letter,  but  was  so  ill 
at  the  time  that  I  was  unable  to  answer  it 
for  some  days;  and  indeed  I  have  recovered 
so  little  since  that  time,  that  I  despair  of 
being  much  better.  My  constitution  is  now, 
probably,  as  we  say  in  England,  "breaking 
up  ;  "  which  I  regret  only,  as  it  hinders  me  from 
being  farther  useful.  I  could  have  wished, 
perhaps,  to  have  lived  a  little  longer,  but  it 
would  have  been  only  for  the  sake  of  seeing 
the  day  when  slavery  should  terminate.  That 
its  days  are  numbered  I  have  no  doubt;  no 
more  doubt  than  that  I  am  now  living;  and 
the  event  cannot  fail  of  being  hastened  on 


LETTER  FROM  THOMAS  CLARKSON.     59 

by  what  has  happened  in  the  case  of  Cassius 
M.  Clay.  The  brutal  treatment  of  him,  and  the 
outrages  committed  since  by  the  white  mob 
at  Lexington,  on  the  persons  of  the  poor  harm- 
less black  people  residing  in  that  city,  will  be 
a  fine  engine  for  the  citizens  of  the  North,  with 
which  to  work. 

I  am  very  sorry  that  the  present  state  of  my 
health  will  not  permit  me  to  send  you  the 
contribution  you  desire  against  the  forthcoming 
Fair.  A  particular  circumstance  has  occurred 
which  will  stand  in  the  way  of  performing 
what  otherwise  would  have  been  a  pleasure 
to  me.  An  American,  of  the  name  of  H.  C. 
Wright,  who  has  been  in  England,  but  more  in 
Scotland,  for  sometime,  and  who  has  attended 
several  Anti- Slavery  meetings  at  Edinburgh, 
Glasgow,  and  other  places,  to  the  great  advan- 
tage of  the  cause,  wrote  to  me  a  week  or  two 
before  the  receipt  of  your  letter,  to  do  him  a 
great  favor,  which  was,  that  as  my  History  of 


60     LETTER  FROM  THOMAS  CLARKSON. 

the  Abolition  of  the  Slave- Trade  contained  the 
facts  relating  to  it  only  up  to  March  1807, 
when  the  British  Parliament  put  an  end  to  it, 
he  wished  to  have  some  little  farther  history 
of  our  proceedings  in  England  since  that  time, 
so  as  to  take  in  the  rise  and  means  by  which 
slavery  in  England  was  abolished  also.  He 
could  get  this  he  said  (and  he  said  truly)  from 
no  other  person  now  living  but  myself.  I 
consented  to  furnish  him  with  a  little  account 
—  though  far  from  well  at  the  time  —  willing 
to  oblige  a  person  who  had  done  so  much  for 
our  cause,  and  thinking  that  it  might  afford 
pleasure  to  some  of  our  friends  in  America.  I 
agreed  only  to  give  him  the  facts,  leaving  it  to 
him  so  to  embellish  it  as  to  make  it  a  readable 
little  book.  I  had  no  other  idea,  however, 
than  that  it  would  be  the  work,  on  my  part,  of 
a  fortnight  only,  though  I  had  too  many  things 
on  hand  even  to  spare  that  time ;  but  three 
weeks  have  passed,  and  as  I  am  now  a  very 


LETTER  FROM  THOMAS  CLARKSON.     61 

slow  writer,  it  will  take  three  weeks  more 
to  finish  the  work.  You  will  see,  therefore, 
how  impossible  it  is  for  me,  when  this  work 
for  Mr.  Wright  shall  have  been  finished,  and 
in  my  present  state  of  health,  to  write  anything 
fit  to  read,  to  be  ready  at  the  time  of  your  Fair. 
I  will  just  say,  that  I  was  the  more  induced  to 
put  myself  to  the  trouble  of  writing  011  this 
occasion,  when  I  saw  that  in  the  Report  of  the 
Glasgow  Female  Anti- Slavery  Society  Mr. 
Wright  had  given  so  lofty  and  yet  so  true  a 
character  of  Mr.  Garrison. 

Notwithstanding  I  have  said  all  this,  I  itill 
think  of  a  subject  for  the  Fair,  and  will 
endeavor,  if  I  can  steal  a  few  moments,  at 
intervals,  to  begin  it  and  go  on  with  it ;  and  if 
I  can  finish  it  in  time  I  will  send  it  you ;  but 
I  must  know  what  is  the  last  day  for  receiving, 
at  Boston,  publications  for  the  press. 

And  here  I  will  ask  a  question.  I  have 
some  memoirs  of  Henry  Christophe,  king  of 


62     LETTER  FROM  THOMAS  CLARKSON. 

Hayli.  I  corresponded  with  him  for  three 
years,  and  put  him  in  the  way  of  making- 
improvement  for  the  good  of  his  country, 
which  I  believe  he  followed.  His  only  fault 
was  that  of  being  a  too  rigid  disciplinarian ;  a 
fault,  indeed,  which  I  cannot  palliate ;  but  his 
intentions  were  noble,  and  his  projects  great, 
and  he  had  a  great  mind.  When  I  was  at  the 
great  Congress  at  Aix  la  Chapelle,  in  Germany, 
trying  to  do  something  with  the  sovereigns  of 
Europe,  then  assembled,  in  favor  of  the  aboli- 
tion of  the  slave-trade,  I  found,  unexpectedly, 
in  my  pocket,  a  letter  of  king  Henry,  which  I 
had  unknowingly  brought  with  me  from  my 
own  house.  This  letter  had  in  it  remarks  on 
education.  I  showed  it  to  the  Emperor  of 
Russia,  After  having  read  it,  he  asked  my 
permission  to  show  it  to  the  Emperor  of 
Austria,  and  the  king  of  Prussia.  He  did  so  — 
and  told  me  that  both  of  them  were  astonished 
at  it  as  a  letter  coming  from  a  black  man ;  and 


LETTER.  FEOM  THOMAS  CLAEKSON.     63 

all  the  three  agreed,  that  though  they  spared 
no  expense  in  getting  the  cleverest  men  in 
Europe  to  be  their  ministers,  and  to  sit  in  coun- 
cil, no  one  of  their  then  cabinet  could  produce 
a  better  letter.  Now  the  publication  of  such 
memoranda  in  America  might  have  a  good 
effect  in  many  ways,  for  however  they  might 
class  the  black  man  with  the  brute,  in  intellect, 
Henry  Christophe,  a  man  as  black  as  jet,  had 
powers  of  mind  equal  to  those  of  any  President 
in  America.  Would  such  a  work  do  good, 
then,  and  would  it  suit  your  Liberty  Bell  ? 

I  will  finish  my  letter  with  a  saying  of  one 
of  the  dearest  friends  I  ever  had,  namely, 
General  Lafayette.  I  was  with  the  General 
often,  and  corresponded  with  him  after  his 
coming  out  of  his  dungeon  at  Olmutz.  But  the 
first  time  I  knew  him  was  when  I  was  in  Paris, 
the  year  after  the  French  Revolution,  on  the 
subject  of  the  slave-trade,  and  I  assisted  him 
materially.  He  was  decidedly  as  uncompro- 


64  LETTER   FROM    THOMAS    CLARKSOX. 

mising  an  enemy  to  the  slave-trade,  and 
slavery,  as  any  man  I  ever  knew.  He  freed 
all  his  slaves  in  French  Cayenne,  who  had 
come  to  him  by  inheritance,  in  1786,  and 
shewed  me  all  his  rules  and  regulations  for 
his  estate  when  they  were  emancipated.  I  was 
with  him  no  less  than  four  different  times  in 
Paris.  He  was  a  real  gentleman,  and  of  soft 
and  gentle  manners.  I  have  seen  him  put 
out  of  temper,  but  never  at  any  time  except 
when  slavery  was  the  subject.  He  has  said, 
frequently,  "  I  would  never  have  drawn  my 
sword  in  the  cause  of  America,  if  I  could  have 
conceived  that  thereby  I  was  founding  a  land 
of  slavery."  How  would  the  people  of  Fayette 
County  like  to  hear  this  ?  —  to  hear  their  land 
cursed  by  the  man  who  gained  it  for  them  ? 
I  remain, 

Dear  Madam, 

Yours  truly, 

THOMAS  CLARKSON. 

To  Mrs.  H.  G.  Chapman. 


SONG,    BY    E.    L.    FOLLEX.  65 


FOR  THE  FRIENDS  OF  FREEDOM. 

FAXEUIL    HALL.    TWELFTH    ANTI-SLAVERY    FAI 
BY     ELIZA     LEE      FOLLEN. 

HEART  to  heart,  and  hand  in  hand 
Bound  together  let  us  stand, 
Storms  are  gathering  o'er  the  land, 

Many  friends  are  gone  ! 
Still  we  never  are  alone, 
Still  we  bravely  march  right  on, 

Right  on  !  right  on  !  right  on  ! 

To  the  Pilgrim  spirit  true 

Which  nor  slave  nor  master  knew, 

Onward  !  faithful,  fearless  few, 

Liberty's  the  prize  ! 
Full  of  hope  that  never  dies, 
Spirits  of  the  free  arise  ! 

Arise!  arise!  arise! 
6* 


66  SONG,    BY    E.    L.    FOLLEN. 

Will  you  your  New  England  see 
Crouching  low  to  slavery  ? 
Rise  and  say  it  shall  not  be  ! 

More  than  life's  at  stake  ! 
Rise  and  every  fetter  break ! 
Every  free-born  soul  awake ! 

Awake  !  awake  !   awake ! 

Listen  to  our  solemn  call, 
Sounding  from  old  Faneuil  Hall, 
Consecrate  yourselves,  your  all 

To  God  and  Liberty  ! 
On  your  spirit's  kindred  knee, 
Swear  your  country  shall  be  free, 

Be  free  !  be  free !  be  free  ! 

Heed  not  what  m'ay  be  your  fate, 
Count  it  gain  when  worldlings  hate, 
Naught  of  hope,  or  heart  abate, 

Victory 's  before ! 
Ask  not  that  your  toils  be  o'er 
Till  all  slavery  is  no  more, 

No  more !  no  more !  no  more  ! 


SONG,    BY    E.    L.    FOLLEN.  67 

Welcome,  then,  the  crown  of  thorns 
Which  the  faithful  brow  adorns ; 
All  complaint  the  brave  soul  scorns, 

Burdens  are  its  choice,  — 
While  within  it  hears  a  voice 
Ever  echoing,  rejoice  1 

Rejoice !  rejoice !  rejoice ! 

Soon,  to  bless  our  longing  eyes, 
Freedom's  glorious  sun  shall  rise ; 
Now  it  lights  those  gloomy  skies 

Faintly  from  afar,  — 
Faith  and  love  her  heralds  are, 
See  you  not  her  morning  star  ? 

Hurra !  hurra !  hurra  ! 

West  Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


A    COMMUNICATION, 


3.  Communication. 

BY      HARRIET      MARTINEAU. 

WHAT  I  am  going  to  tell  you  is  no  fiction : 
nor  can  it  be  called  a  dream.  As  to  whence  it 
was  derived,  —  suffice  it  now  to  say  that  means 
of  insight  into  realities  exist,  —  powers  of  body 
and  soul  for  a  certain  recognition  of  unseen 
tilings,  —  which  few  are  aware  of,  and  scarcely 
any  know  how  to  exert  and  employ. 

A  spirit,  released  from  its  present  life  and 
connexions,  shrank  from  entering  upon  that 
state  of  ease  and  "  glory  "  which  it  had  been 
led  to  anticipate  as  a  good  portion  after  death. 
It  preferred  ceasing  to  live  to  living  that  kind 
of  life.  Liberty  of  choice  being  left,  however, 
it  chose  a  lot  of  service,  —  eternal  service  of 
men.  It  chose  this  work;  —  to  abide  by  our 


BY    HAERIET    MARTINEAU.  69 

globe,  and  live  in  its  shadowy  parts ;  —  to  travel 
with  the  gloom,  and  penetrate  the  deeper 
gloom  of  mourning  hearts.  Its  work  was  to 
enter  all  sorrowing  souls,  unseen,  unheard,  un- 
tracked,  unfelt,  —  except  in  the  glow  of  hope 
and  comfort  it  was  enabled  to  create.  This 
mission  it  fulfilled  for  centuries. 

Of  what  it  saw  and  was  permitted  to  do,  I 
will  now  give  you  but  one  instance.  One  of 
its  first  pauses  was  in  a  slave-ship  in  the 
midst  of  the  Atlantic,  where  the  company  of 
wretched  beings  felt  themselves  in  a  vault 
of  blackness  as  terrifying  as  their  fate.  The 
spirit  penetrated  them  all,  and  found,  as  it  told 
me,  "  their  hearts  as  deep  as  the  sea  they  are 
on,  and  as  dark  as  the  night  about  them.  I," 
it  continued,  "  will  be  the  opener  of  their  dawn. 
Gently  —  gently  —  will  I  let  in  the  light :  — 
only  as  they  are  able  to  bear  it.  There  is  no 
haste :  for  what  is  so  sure  as  the  spread  of  the 
dawn  into  perfect  day  ? " 


70  A    COMMUNICATION, 

Even  in  such  work,  pursued  with  such 
powers,  the  spirit  found  some  pain  and  draw- 
back. Its  aids  were  circumscribed  by  the 
limitations  of  the  capacities  of  the  sufferers. 
In  this  instance,  it  could  impart  only  a  vague 
sensation  of  comfort  and  hope  of  relief.  While 
itself  looking  back  and  down  upon  the  expanse 
of  centuries,  and  seeing  the  fire -fountains  of 
liberty  welling  up  wherever  man  had  put  forth 
his  hand,  and  touched  the  soil  for  freedom  in 
the  name  of  God;  —  while  itself  perceiving 
that  all  fetters  of  mind  and  body  are  perpetu- 
ally wasting  away  under  the  prayers  and  tears 
of  the  few  who  are  ever  praying  and  suffer- 
ing for  the  enslaved  in  some  corner  of  the 
earth ;  —  while  itself  seeing  and  knowing  these 
tilings,  the  ministering  spirit  could  not  make 
them  seen  and  known  by  eyes  yet  darkened, 
and  intellects  yet  torpid.  It  could  but  let  in  a 
dim  ray,  and  infuse  a  faint  glow,  whereby 
however,  the  bowed  head  was  raised,  —  the 


BY    HARRIET    MARTINEAU.  71 

silent  spoke  to  each  other,  —  the  infant  was 
pressed  to  its  mother's  beating  heart,  and  an 
undefined  sense  of  well-being  spread  through 
the  band  of  sufferers,  though  none  could  tell  — 
nor  even  incjuire  —  whence  came  the  intuition 
of  hope  and  help. 

If  you  ask  why  I  tell  you  this,  I  can  only 
reply  that  it  animated  me,  —  (it  being,  as  I 
said,  no  fiction,  nor  yet  a  dream)  and  that  I  like 
to  impart  to  you  whatever  animates  me  in  the 
great  cause  for  which  you  work  and  endure. 

Ambleside,  Westmoreland,  England. 


72  OUR   DUTY. 


(Dor 

BY    BENJAMIN     S.     JONES. 

WHY  should  we  rest  ingloriously 
When  earth  is  filled  with  strife, 
And  Error  shouts  her  battle  cry 
.    Upon  the  field  of  Life? 

The  labor  we  were  sent  to  do, 

Is  steadfastly  to  seek 
A  knowledge  of  the  Eight  and  True 

With  spirit  strong,  yet  meek. 

To  tread,  unmurmuring,  the  way 
The  Sinless  One  hath  trod, 

And  thus  draw  nearer  ev'ry  day 
In  likeness  unto  God. 

The  shadowy  PAST  has  from  us  flown, 

The  FUTURE  cometh  late, 
The  PRESENT  only  is  our  own, 

Nor  will  the  PRESENT  wait. 

Salem,  Ohio,  U.  S. 


EXTRACT    FROM    A    SPEECH.  73 


FROM      A      SPEECH     AT     THE      ANTI-TEXAN     MEETING     IN 
FANEOIL    HALL,    1845. 

BY     SAMUEL    J.MAY. 

THE  compromise  of  our  fathers  blunted  the 
sensibility  of  their  children,  so  that  they  were 
too  easily  turned  aside  from  the  high  career 
which  was  commenced  by  the  Revolution,  and 
suffered  the  spirit  of  trade  to  usurp  that  place 
in  their  bosoms  which  should  have  been  kept 
ever  sacred  to  the  spirit  of  Freedom. 

Allusion  has  been  repeatedly  made  in  the 
course  of  our  debates  to  Plymouth  Rock.  Ah ! 
sir,  the  fate  of  that  rock  is  very  similar  to  the 
fate  of  the  principle  of  liberty,  upon  which  our 
civil  institutions  were  professedly  based.  Go, 
sir,  to  Plymouth,  inquire  for  the  Rock,  and 
you  shall  be  led  to  see  where  it  is  actually 


74  EXTRACT    FROM    A    SPEECH. 

buried  in  a  wharf,  and  over  it  the  busy  sons  of 
trade  daily  trample,  not  conscious  that  it  is  a 
sacred  spot.  It  is  true,  sir,  some  'of  the  pious 
sons  of  the  Pilgrims  have  rescued  a  portion  of 
the  Keck  from  that  desecration  to  which  I 
have  alluded ;  but,  sir,  the  disposal  they  have 
made  of  the  fragment,  (although  with  a  dif- 
ferent intention,  and  for  a  better  purpose) 
happens  still  to  bear  a  striking  resemblance  to 
the  way  in  which  the  Declaration  of  our 
Revolutionary  sires  has  been  treated.  They 
have  brought  that  piece  of  rock  to  the  side  of 
the  most  public  high  way,  to  be  seen  and 
admired  of  all  men  —  to  be  seen,  but  not  felt ; 
for  around  it  they  have  put  a  strong  iron  fence, 
graced  with  the  imperishable  names  of  the 
men  who  led  in  that  great  enterprise;  but  a 
fence  so  high  that  none  may  leap  over  and 
stand  upon  the  rock,  and  actually  feel  beneath 
him  the  stable  foundation,  upon  which  our 
forefathers  planted  their  feet. 


EXTRACT    FROM    A    SPEECH.  75 

The  men  of  our  day  have  treated  the 
glorious  Declaration  of  our  Independence 
worse  than  this.  They  have  set  it  forth  in 
all  the  decorations  of  typographic  art.  They 
have  placed  it  in  gilded  frames  and  hung  it  up 
to  be  seen  and  admired.  But  he  who  has 
dared  to  overleap  the  restrictions  which  the 
Constitution  would  impose,  and  take  his  stand 
upon  the  self-evident,  eternal  truths  of  the 
Declaration,  has  been  accounted  a  fanatic,  a 
pestilent  fellow,  not  fit  to  live. 

This  recreancy  to  principle,  Mr.  President, 
this  loss  of  the  sentiment  and  the  love  of 
liberty,  are  the  legitimate  effects  of  the  dis- 
astrous compromise  which  was  made  by  the 
framers  of  our  Constitution. 

But  a  new  leaf  is  to  be  turned  in  the  history 
of  our  nation.  The  doings  of  this  Convention, 
if  they  are  what  they  ought  to  be,  will  be  the 
first  bright  record  upon  the  unsullied  page. 
Taking  warning  from  the  past,  let  us  see  to  it 


76  EXTRACT   FROM   A    SPEECH. 

that  we  do  not  commence  the  pregnant  chap- 
ter with  a  compromise,  —  an  evasion.  No,  sir. 
No,  sir !  Let  us  henceforth  speak  only  what 
is  true,  and  consent  to  do  only  what  is  right. 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 


0oniute. 


BY     GEORGE     THOMPSON 
I. 


THE  sun  breaks  forth  with  his  brightest  beam 
The  music  is  sweet  of  the  winding  stream  ; 
The  reaper  is  binding  the  yellow  grain, 
While  the  sky-lark  carols  his  sweetest  strain 
Thin  clouds  career  o'er  the  mountain's  brow ; 
In  the  vale  the  peasant  holds  his  plough ; 
And  all  is  gladness,  and  joy,  and  peace,  — 
The  fertile  field  and  the  snowy  fleece  : 
Nor  can  I  through  this  realm  descry, 
As  o'er  it  wanders  the  kindling  eye  — 
On  the  smiling  farm,  or  the  martyr's  grave, 
A  lordly  satrap  or  groaning  slave. 
When,  Columbia  !  when  shall  it  be, 

That  the  poet  may  sing  the  same  of  thee ! 

7* 


78  SONNETS. 

II. 
TO    BLANCHE. 

I  saw  and  loved  ;  but,  it  was  holily, 
Even  as  a  brother,  or  a  spirit  might. 

SPEECHLESS  thou  art;  yet,  able  to  commune 

With  spirits  like  thine  own,  and  kindred 
hearts. 

What,  though  to  thee  has  been  denied  the 
boon, 

Which  God  to  all  —  save  few  —  on  earth  im- 
parts— 

Hast  thou  no  language?  Canst  thou  not  re- 
veal 

The  holy  sympathies  which  mortals  feel  ? 

Thou  canst.  To  me,  thine  have  been  all 
made  known, 

In  language  silent,  eloquent,  thine  own. 

Thine  eye  has  glanced  a  meaning  full  and 
deep, 

And  told  the  thoughts  which  o'er  thy  spirit 
sweep. 


SONNETS.  79 

Yes !  I  have  read  thee  —  and  I  know  thy 
mind  — 

High  toned,  and  pure,  and  sanctified,  and  kind. 

Though  mute,  thou  canst  the  soul-sung  an- 
them raise, 

And  thy  full  heart  can  speak  thy  Maker's 
praise. 

Newingtoji,  near  Edinburgh. 


80  THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 


Cibertjj  8*11. 


BY     S.     MARGARET     FULLER. 

IT  was  a  legend  of  Germany,  that,  in  the 
time  when  the  faith  of  Christendom  was  live- 
ly, and  her  heart  aspiring  to  be  devout,  if  she 
had  not  sufficient  clearness  of  mental  view  to 
avoid  great  mistakes  as  to  the  way,  a  certain 
society  of  knights  had  vowed,  with  the 
straitest  vow,  their  service  to  the  oppressed 
in  every  part  of  their  country.  And  so  faith- 
ful was  their  adherence  to  this  vow,  that 
Heaven  took  them  under  its  especial  care  and 
allowed  them  supernatural  assistance,  that 
they  might  multiply  good  deeds  more  and 
more.  In  their  chapel  hung  a  bell,  whose 
silver  blazonry  chronicled  the  acts  of  many 
who  had  imitated  their  Master  not  only  in 
purity  and  self-denial,  but,  also,  in  active  be- 


THE    LIBERTY   BELL.  81 

nevolence  towards  their  fellow-men.  Its  silver 
sound  was,  in  itself,  almost  a  prayer.  It  was 
a  beautiful  and  solemn  sight  when  this  sound 
called  many  votaries  to  kneel  before  the  altar. 
The  soft  light,  that  fell  through  windows 
painted  with  figures  of  saints  and  angels 
already  admitted  to  the  joys  of  perfect  obedi- 
ence and  intelligent  ministry,  gave  to  view 
faces  which  showed  a  kindred  spirit,  a  spirit 
that  could  never  rest  or  dally  on  the  upward 
path  to  the  mount  of  Salvation,  that  craved 
the  nearest  approach  to  the  sun  and  stars,  the 
purest,  if  the  coldest,  atmosphere  which  the 
human  frame  is  able  to  bear.  There  was  the 
gray  haired  man,  whose  features  were  marked 
by  a  thousand  characters  that  told  of  noble 
deeds  achieved,  or  failures  well  redeemed; 
there  was  the  youth,  in  whose  eye  the  light 
was  borrowed,  not  from  the  torch  of  passion, 
but  the  morning  star  of  God's  own  day ;  there 
was  the  minstrel,  who  had  turned  his  lyre  into 


82  THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 

a  sword,  because  the  time  seemed  to  demand 
a  sharper  service  to  relieve  his  fellow-men, 
and  those  precepts  of  the  Master  which  for- 
bade that  way  had  not  yet  been  translated; 
there  was  the  lover,  whose  mistress  had 
dismissed  him  to  aid  his  brethren ;  and  many 
a  one  beside  for  whom  fortune  had  prepared 
pleasant  homes  in  the  green  shade  and  beside 
fresh  fountains,  but  who  could  not  rest  and  be 
merry  while  their  fellow-men  watered  with 
blood  and  tears  the  path  of  the  conqueror,  the 
domain  of  the  tyrant 

These  men  were  of  different  mould  one 
from  another;  the  veins  of  some  ran  with 
water,  of  others  with  wine ;  and  very  unlike  in 
degree  was  the  majesty  of  their  course,  the 
firmness  of  their  grasp.  But  when  they  all 
knelt  together  at  the  sound  of  that  bell,  all 
true  hearts  echoed  to  its  call,  and  gave  forth 
tones,  each  of  which  was  wanted  to  swell  the 
strain  of  heavenly  music. 


THE    LIBERTY    BELL.  83 

And  those  hearts,  once  thus  awakened, 
retained  a  sensibility  so  delicate  that  when 
any  act  of  oppression  was  about  to  be  perpe- 
trated on  the  earth,  the  votary  of  this  most 
holy  order,  who  was  nearest,  heard  in  the  air 
the  warning  sound  of  that  consecrated  bell. 
Then  did  he  immediately  long,  with  all  his 
force,  to  embrace  the  occasion,  —  not  counting 
the  cost,  not  to  be  deterred  by  weariness, 
sickness,  or  scenes  of  happiness  to  be  forsaken. 
The  means  of  reaching  the  scene  where  his 
devoir  was  to  be  done,  were  instantly  afforded 
him.  On  the  land  a  white  steed  bore  him,  on 
the  waters  white  swans  impelled  his  bark.  All 
that  was  necessary  for  him,  in  the  conduct 
of  the  journey,  was  to  keep  his  mind  clear 
from  malice,  anger,  impatience  and  all  wrong 
thoughts,  till  he  reached  the  spot  where  his 
courage  and  energy  were  required.  God 
would  show  the  way,  if  he  kept  himself 
worthy  to  be  the  instrument.  If  he  failed  in 


84  THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 

this,  the  ministry  was  transferred  to  another, 
one  more  steadfast  in  the  sense  that 

"  Him,  only  him,  the  shield  of  Jove  defends, 
Whose  means  are  fair  and  spotless  as  his  ends." 

This  legend  made  a  deep  impression  on  me, 
and  though,  even  in  the  fairest  visionary  time 
of  youth,  I  never  met  in  the  greenwood  or 
descried  upon  the  stream  one  of  those  chosen 
servants,  with  his  attendant  snowy  steed,  or 
swan,  and  the  seal  of  the  shining  ones  upon 
his  brow,  yet  I  believed  such  an  association 
could  not  have  died  out.  These  faithful  ser- 
vants must  have  felt  too  much  the  earth's 
need  of  redemption  to  have  died  in  peace 
without  choosing  successors  worthy  to  per- 
petuate the  talisman.  Still,  no  doubt,  that 
sanctuary  gathered  in  its  worshippers ;  still 
they  sped  through  the  world  dispensing  bene- 
fits unexpected  as  manna  to  those  who  did 
not  know  that  the  wrongs  of  the  innocent  or 
penitent  always  woke  the  sound  of  the  bell. 


THE    LIBERTY    BELL.  85 

But,  I  supposed,  only  eyes  purged  to  spiritual 
sight  could  see  them  now. 

One  day  I  read,  in  the  album  of  a  distin- 
guished contemporary,  this  signature,  —  "  Dan. 
O' Council,  of  the  Order  of  Liberators."  Of 
this  Daniel,  I,  at  that  time,  knew  little ;  not 
enough  to  judge  whether  he,  like  the  great 
Israelite,  was  one  able  to  brave  the  fiery 
furnace,  and  the  lion's  den,  and  the  silken 
lures  of  a  court,  and  speak  truth  always  with 
a  poet's  power.  But  it  flashed  upon  me  at 
once,  that  the  Order  to  which  he  vowed 
himself  must  be  that  of  the  Consecrated  Bell, 
under  a  new  form. 

Yes  !  it  is  surely  so.  We  know  too  much 
now  to  be  content  with  merely  freeing  individ- 
ual victims  from  their  chains.  We  know 
enough  to  war  with  the  errors  which  forge 
them.  We  must  liberate  men,  but  we  must 
also  establish  the  principles  of  liberty  for  man. 

We  need  not  the  white  steed  to  show  us  the 

8 


86  THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 

way ;  it  is  now  too  well  marked  to  be  missed 
by  any  who  choose  to  see  it. 

But  now,  more  than  ever,  do  we  need  the 
consecration  of  the  spirit  which  should  pre- 
cede, the  pure  tone  of  conscience  which  shall 
direct,  our  action  !  Let  none  consider  himself 
vowed  to  the  Order  of  Liberators  who  is  not 
willing,  like  the  knights  of  old,  to  fail  in  his 
efforts  and  see  the  work  given  to  another,  if  he 
cannot  keep  his  heart  clean  from  impatience, 
a  love  of  excitement  for  its  own  sake,  intoler- 
ance, and  the  bitterness  of  partisan  hatred. 
For  to  such,  whatever  they  may  outwardly 
accomplish,  He  whose  name  they  invoke  must 
surely  say,  in  the  hour  of  spiritual  ordination, 
"  I  never  knew  ye." 

We  stand,  it  has  been  said,  in  a  time  of 
revolution ;  so  do  men  ever.  Yet  that  this  is  a 
moment  of  great  and  peculiar  importance,  we 
do  believe.  Principles  cannot  die;  but  the 
earthly  embodiment  of  one  of  the  greatest 


THE    LIBERTY    BELL.  87 

that  give  man  his  claims  to  spiritual  hope, 
lies  gasping  with  a  wound  that  threatens  a 
long  trance,  or  convulsion.  Never  did  the 
earth  more  need  the  salt  to  show  its  savor. 
Bring  the  sacred  bell ;  and  at  its  sound  must 
move,  before  the  sincere  worshipper,  millions 
of  spirits  yet  unborn  to  the  woes  of  this  world ; 
the  scenes  of  centuries  to  come  demanding 
his  agency  to  avert  evils  that  shame  imagina- 
tion. Bring,  then,  the  silver  bell ;  but  ye  who 
obey  its  summons,  believe,  also,  that  the  time 
demands,  and  God  commands,  a  deeper,  larger 
wisdom,  a  severer  devotion  than  those  that 
enabled  Milton  and  Washington  to  leave  us 
their  legacy.  We  have  it  to  pay  over,  princi- 
pal and  interest,  to  our  heirs;  the  mint  is 
ready ;  let  not  the  pieces  which  bear  the  name 
of  Texas  be  stamped  on  the  reverse  with 
slavery,  and  the  lone  star  be  given  for  a  tin-one 
to  him  who  has  forfeited  the  title  of  Lucifer, 
except  as  bitter  mockery.  Let  it  not  be  so,  if 


88  THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 

well-considered  purpose,  if  flame-like  ardor 
and  purity  of  life,  can  prevent  it.  Or,  if  you 
feel  yourselves  unfit  to  aid  in  this  cause, 
consider  well  whether  you  forever  forego 
admission  to  the  Order  of  Liberators,  since,  if 
you  forbear  this  test  of  service,  you  incur  a 
vast  debt  to  humanity,  which  fate  may  not, 
in  your  own  age,  afford  you  opportunity  to 
cancel.  Consider  well,  but  not  slowly,  for  the 
time  is  short. 

"  God  calls;  the  angels  wait;  and  fellow-men, 

Betwixt  the  spasms  of  pain,  still  question,  — '  When 

Shall  our  crushed  hearts  be  healed  to  say,  Amen  ? ' 

Our  brothers  are  our  keepers;  ask  them  why 

Immortal  hopes  in  life-long  graves  must  lie, 

And  they  the  demons  of  such  destiny  ? 

Cain  slew  the  body  —  they  would  slay  the  soul  : 

To  the  unborn  extend  their  fell  control. 

To  thee,  oh  Lord,  our  blood  doth  upward  cry, 

Not  unavenged  and  not  in  vain  we  die  : 

Thy  justice  is  our  surety.     Happy  they 

Through  whom  to  the  dark  earth  its  light  finds  way  ; 

Accursed  who  shut  out  each  gleam  of  coming  day  !  " 


A    FRAGMENT.  89 


.fragment. 


BY    JANE     E.    HORNBLOWER. 

GOD'S  glorious  works  !   free,  as  the  chaiiiless 

winds, 

Far  as  the  eye  can  stretch,  ye  widely  spread  ! 
The  immortal  heavens  that  canopy  your  head 
Are  glorious  —  glorious  the  immortal  minds 
That  bless  your  beauty.     On  your  mountains' 

brow 
Free  prayers  are  breath'd,  and  holy  dreams 

inspir'd  ; 

From  the  pure  heights  above,  in  clouds  attir'd, 
Fall  radiant  thoughts,   stainless   as  mountain 

snow, 

And  visions  not  of  earth.    The  oppressor,  here, 
Fac'd  by  the  free  winds,  and  the  bright  ex- 

panse 

8* 


90  A    FRAGMENT. 

Of  earth,  air,  water,  that  invites  his  glance, 
Might  own,  for  once,  that  liberty  was  dear. 
Free  are  the  creatures  all  of  this  bright  sphere : 
The  sheep  stray  fearless  in  each  dangerous 

path, 

The  eagle  combats  with  the  tempest's  wrath, 
The  chorus  of  the  birds  is  wild  and  clear. 

The  very  sun  shoots  down  unfettered  rays, 
Lighting,  at  will,  each  glade  and  rock  and  tree. 
The  clouds  in  their  bright  charioting  are  free ; 
Man's  laws  are  powerless  to  confine  the  blaze 
Of  glorious  light,  pervading  Nature's  face. 
In  liberty  the  waters  freshly  flow, 
And  free  the  eye  wanders  the  depths  below, 
The  changing  views,  the  dark  ravines  to  trace. 

Oh  !  glorious  Liberty !  thy  name  is  trac'd 

In  every  work  from  thy  Creator's  hand, 

And  the   great   bounty  which  his    goodness 

plann'd 
E'en  tyrant  man  achieves  not  to  efface 


A    FRAGMENT.  91 

With    all    his    blighting    power.      The    corn 

waves  free ; 
Oh!  free  it  should  be  gather'd.     Blades  and 

flowers 
Eise  up  in  thousands  from  the  Spring's  warm 

showers, 
And  they  are  man's  —  to  use  —  to  taste  —  to 

see. 

Given  with  a  Father's  blessing,  hateful  strife 
And  base  restriction  vainly  step  between  ; 
A  mightier  power  enfranchises  each  scene. 
Since  God  has  charter'd  wheat,  the  poor  man's 

life, 
Gather  the  sheaves    in  freedom  —  free   they 

grow  ! 

His  golden  sun  has  painted  that  bright  grain, 
His  rains  have  fertilized  that  moving  plain, 
He  bade  those  fields  in  Summer  beauty  glow  ! 

Eternal  Nature  !  'midst  thy  shows  sublime 
No  tyrant  foot  should  enter  even  there. 


92  A    FRAGMENT. 

In  that  great  temple  of  the  free-drawn  air, 
Sits  Freedom,  thron'd  coeval  with  all  time. 
Call'd  by  her  Maker's  fiat,  there  she  sees 
Her  subject  realms  in  boundless  beauty  move ; 
And,  fired  with  heaven's  own  atmosphere   of 

love, 
A  glory  on  the  hills,  and  vales,  and  trees. 


England. 


PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL.  93 

IJro^Slarerg  Appeal 

TO    THE    WORLD    FOR    SYMPATHY,    ANSWERED 

FROM    OLD    IRELAND. 
BY   JAMES    HA  TIGHT  ON. 

IN  an  Address  read  by  the  Hon.  T.  F. 
Marshall,  on  the  occasion  of  the  suppression, 
by  lawless  violence,  of  C.  M.  Clay's  paper,  — 
"  The  True  American,"  —  I  find  the  following 
passage :  "  For  our  vindication,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, we  appeal  to  Kentucky  and  to 
the  world." 

I  know  not  how  this  audacious  appeal  may 
be  met  by  the  people  of  Kentucky :  but  as 
an  Irishman  I  reply,  your  acts  of  violence  on 
this  occasion  only  deepen  the  feelings  of 
contempt  entertained  in  my  country  for  Ameri- 
can slave-holders,  —  feelings  which  deepen 


94  PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL. 

from  day  to  day,  as  we  see  more  clearly  the 
inconsistency  between  their  professions  of  lib- 
erty and  their  acts  of  oppression. 

It  is  lamentable  to  behold  the  position  now 
occupied  by  the  United  States  of  America  in 
the  estimation  of  the  rest  of  the  world.  Slave- 
ry, it  is  true,  exists  in  other  countries,  but 
nowhere  else  is  its  hideous  deformity  so  appa- 
rent. The  charter  of  man's  inalienable  right 
to  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness, 
is  ostentatiously  paraded  before  the  world, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  this  magnificent 
recognition  is  continually  trampled  under  foot 
by  her  citizens.  And,  strange  to  say,  their 
perceptions  of  justice  and  honor  are  so  pervert- 
ed by  the  blighting  influences  of  slavery,  that 
they  imagine  they  stand  forth  among  their 
fellow-men,  arrayed  in  spotless  purity ! 

But  such  monsters,  in  the  moral  creation, 
have  no  just  pretensions  to  associate  with  the 
rest  of  mankind.  When  they  leave  their  own 


PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL.  95 

sphere,  they  are  obliged  to  put  on  the  garb  of 
virtue ;  but  it  sits  awkwardly  upon  them,  and 
cannot  conceal  their  real  character.  These 
"  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing  "  walk  uneasily, 
when  they  step  beyond  their  own  polluted 
boundary.  Such  at  least  is  the  condition  of 
all  pro-slavery  Americans  who  visit  old  Ireland. 
Yes !  thanks  to  the  fearless  exposures  and 
denunciations  of  O'Connell  and  his  son  John, 
we  know  how  to  treat  American  "  soul-driv- 
ers." 

The  incendiaries  in  Lexington  may  there- 
fore rest  assured  that  they  will  meet  with  no 
friendly  response  from  us.  In  return  for  their 
blind  and  bootless  attempt  to  smother  free 
discussion,  and  their  unmanly  attack  upon  the 
property  and  privileges  of  a  man  who  had  the 
magnanimity  to  free  his  slaves,  and  to  combat 
a  depraved  public  opinion  by  reason  and 
argument,  —  let  them  know  that  Ireland  will 
make  every  pro-slavery  American,  who  sets 


96  PRO -SLAVERY    APPEAL. 

foot  upon  her  soil,  feel  that  she  looks  upon 
him  as  a  degraded  being,  fit  only  to  associate 
with  sheep-stealers  and  highway-robbers. 

That  my  answer  is  a  true  Irish  answer, 
every  packet-ship  from  our  shores  to  America 
will  bear  ample  testimony. 

Oppression,  in  some  shape,  exists  in  all  lands, 
and  the  poor  are  its  victims  in  a  greater  or  less 
degree,  everywhere.  In  some  countries  open 
and  unblushing  tyranny  is  sanctioned  by  the 
laws  and  ancient  usages  of  society ;  in  others, 
misery  and  destitution  prevail,  arising  partly 
from  unjust  social  arrangement,  from  erroneous 
legislation,  from  intemperance  and  ignorance. 
But,  even  in  these  cases,  the  oppressed  are 
generally  allowed  to  complain ;  their  friends 
are  permitted  to  advocate  their  cause,  and  the 
evils  under  which  they  groan  are  open  to 
inquiry  and  amelioration.  The  slave-holding 
American  Union  alone  would  remain  wilfully 
lark  and  blind,  doggedly  determined  to  shut 


PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL.  97 

out  the  light.  She  alone  claims  the  right 
forever  to  repress  the  free  aspirations  of  the 
soul,  to  transform  her  victim  from  a  man  to  a 
brute,  and  to  keep  him  so.  And  if  one  of  her 
slave-holders,  becoming  convinced  of  the  sin- 
fulness  of  his  position,  struggle  through  the 
legal  impediments  which  she  has  thrown  in 
his  way,  give  freedom  to  his  bondmen,  and 
peaceably  advocate  the  equal  rights  of  all, — 
she  hunts  him  down  as  if  he  were  a  raven- 
ous wild  beast. 

Thus,  with  a  Constitution  the  most  glorious 
ever  offered  for  the  admiration  and  acceptance 
of  any  people,  it  is  reserved  for  America  to 
exhibit  the  most  infamous  tyranny  that  exists 
upon  earth.  We  do  not  wonder  when  we 
hear  of  forcible  attempts  to  repress  the  ex- 
pression of  opinion,  in  obedience  to  the 
mandate  of  a  monarch,  in  countries  where 
political  freedom  is  denied  to  the  mass  of  the 
people.  This  is  only  what  might  be  expected. 


PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL. 

But  we  start  when  we  first  learn  that  such 
things  happen  in  the  United  States,  where  the 
right  of  free  speech  and  free  discussion  is 
guarantied  to  all,  by  solemn  compact,  and 
embodied  in  a  written  Constitution. 

Nevertheless,  while  we  strive  to  bring  the 
power  of  enlightened  public  opinion  to  bear 
upon  the  unjust  acts  of  American  slave-holders, 
we  should  be  diligent  in  laboring  for  an  abate- 
ment of  the  evils  which  afflict  our  own  poor. 
He  who  sends  his  sympathies  across  the  ocean, 
and  is  deaf  to  the  cries  of  sufferers  at  home,  is 
a  hypocrite,  and  deserves  not  to  be  trusted. 

But,  happily,  the  United  States  are  engaged 
in  a  fruitless  struggle  against  free  discussion 
—  they  cannot  shut  out  the  light.  Happily 
for  the  master  as  well  as  for  the  slave,  in 
spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  overcome  the  con- 
viction, the  master  feels  that  he  is  at  war  with 
all  the  higher  instincts  of  his  own  nature.  He 
is  at  continual  war  with  God,  in  his  own  soul, 


PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL.  99 

for  he  knows  that  he  is  ever  doing  violence 
to  the  divine  laws.  Other  sinners  may  de- 
ceive themselves  by  the  plea  that  they  are 
acting  in  accordance  with  the  propensities 
which  God  has  implanted.  The  warrior  may 
urge  the  plea  of  self-defence,  and  the  pro- 
vocation which  his  natural  propensities  of 
destructiveness  and  combativeness  have  re- 
ceived ;  the  highwayman  or  the  sheep-stealer 
may  seek  to  satisfy  his  accusing  conscience 
by  pleading  that  the  laws  under  which  he 
lives  are  partial  and  unjust,  and  deny  him  his 
fair  share  of  the  means  of  life.  But  as  easily 
could  I  believe  that  a  man  might  thrust  his 
hand  into  a  flaming  furnace  and  feel  no  pain, 
as  that  a  man  could  buy  a  man  and  work  him 
without  wages  and  not  know  that  he  was  do- 
ing wrong.  He  may  endeavor  to  conceal  the 
conviction  from  himself,  by  the  aid  of  corrupt 
public  sentiment,  and  by  resolutely  silencing 


100  PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL. 

his  conscience ;  but  that  the  consciousness  of 
injustice  is  a  living  principle  in  his  soul  is 
proved  by  the  state  of  uneasiness  in  which  he 
lives.  He  is  ever  in  fear,  he  is  the  slave  of 
boisterous  passions,  he  enacts  cruel  and  bloody 
laws  to  protect  himself  against  the  ever-living 
opposition  of  his  human  cattle.  Truly,  despite 
his  polished  manners  to  strangers,  and  his 
haughty  demeanor  towards  his  equals  at  home, 
the  man-stealer  is  a  miserable  creature.  It 
would  be  an  act  of  mercy  to  release  him  from 
the  bondage  of  a  system  which  makes  him 
thus  wretched  in  himself  and  contemptible  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world  —  of  that  world  to  which 
Mr.  Marshall  and  his  compeers  have  made 
their  audacious  appeal.  If  they  have  hearts 
capable  of  being  touched  by  any  feelings  of 
truth  and  honor,  deep  will  be  their  humiliation 
at  the  response  they  will  receive  from  the 
civilized  world.  The  folly  of  these  men  in 


PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL.  101 

suppressing  a  paper  conducted  by  one  whose 
aim  was  to  shed  light  abroad  on  the  subject  of 
slavery,  will  array  the  free  pens  of  the  world 
against  that  vile  system,  and  strengthen  our 
indignant  abhorrence.  May  the  bloody  institu- 
tion soon  be  uprooted  from  its  very  foundation. 
Oh,  people  of  America !  the  heart  of  human- 
ity shall  rejoice  when  the  song  of  universal 
emancipation  shall  resound  through  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  Union;  when  it  shall  be 
borne  with  acclamation  from  summit  to  sum- 
mit of  your  everlasting  mountains ;  when  the 
glad  waters  of  your  magnificent  rivers  shall 
carry  onward  the  jubilee  of  freedom;  and 
when  your  mighty  forests  and  boundless 
prairies  shall  no  longer  echo  to  the  wailing  of 
the  bondman ;  when  your  Marshalls  and  your 
Calhouns,  your  M'Duffies  and  your  Henry 
Clays,  shall  shake  off  the  selfishness  which 
degrades  and  depresses  them,  and  shah1  rise 
9* 


102  PRO-SLAVERY    APPEAL. 

up  in  the  dignity  of  their  nature,  free  and 
disenthralled!  Then,  indeed,  may  your  citi- 
zens appeal  with  confidence  to  the  world  to 
justify  their  actions,  —  but  not  until  then. 

Dublin,  October,  1845. 


103 


fttbtUe. 

BY    ALLEN     C.     SPOONER. 

THE  Equinox  is  past, 
October's  days  fly  fast, 

Its  leaves  are  sere  : 
The  sea,  with  darker  swell, 
Pale  skies  and  keen  airs,  tell 

Stern  winter  near. 

The  husbandman,  his  spoil, 
Won  from  the  earth  by  toil, 

With  joy  surveys ; 
And,  for  his  bounteous  board, 
Full  barns  and  garners  stored, 

To  God  gives  praise. 

The  fisher,  on  the  shore, 
Hears  the  loud  tempest  roar, 
Careless  and  free  — 


104 


And,  safe  in  peaceful  cot, 
Forgets  his  toilsome  lot, 
To  farm  the  sea. 

In  crowded  cities  vast, 
The  friendless  and  outcast 

Together  cower : 
A  blight  is  on  their  souls, 
And  slowly  o'er  them  rolls 

The  heavy  hour. 

Near  by,  in  lighted  halls, 
Where  wild  profusion  palls 

The  sated  sense, 
The  sons  of  luxury  strive, 
With  feast  and  song,  to  drive 

Earth's  sorrows  thence. 

And,  as  the  seasons  fly, 
The  preacher's  homily 
Is  "  watch  and  pray ! 


105 


For  what  are  human  years  ? 
A  shade  —  which  but  appears, 
Then  shrinks  away." 

But  what  to  us  is  time  ? 
Eternity  sublime 

And  boundless  scope  — 
To  live  and  work  and  grow, 
Enjoy,  achieve  and  know, 

Are  ours,  in  hope. 

Then  let  us  fearless  live ! 
What's  freely  given,  still  give 

With  liberal  hand : 
For  love,  when  like  a  scroll 
The  heavens  together  roll, 

Secure  shall  stand. 

Without  remorse  or  fear, 
Each  swiftly  passing  year, 
We'll  see  depart : 


106  JUBILEE. 

And,  by  distrust  unvexed, 

Look  forward  to  the  next 

With  tranquil  heart. 

And,  as  time  sweeps  along, 
We'll  raise  the  joyful  song, 

And  bid  him  fly : 
True  heart  and  lofty  soul 
Own  not  his  stern  control ; 

His  power  defy. 

Oct.  1845. 


DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES.        107 


BY    ALLEN    C.     SPOONER. 

THE  outward  evils  of  man's  lot  are  but  the 
exponents  and  visible  manifestations  of  in- 
ward darkness  or  corruption.  The  unjust 
institutions,  pernicious  customs  and  violent 
deeds  of  mankind,  are  superficial  merely,  and^ 
of  consequence  chiefly  as  they  indicate  the 
interior  state  of  men's  hearts  and  thoughts. 
Men  do  not  love  evil  and  wrong  for  their  own 
sakes,  and  never  justify  them  as  such.  All 
the  world  admits,  for  example,  that  if  slavery 
be  an  evil  and  a  wrong,  it  is  indefensible 
and  ought  to  be  abandoned.  Its  defence  is 
grounded  rather  upon  the  position  that  it  is  in 
fact  as  near  to  right  as  the  present  condition 
of  human  nature  will  admit. 


108       DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES. 

Nor  is  this  position  so  entirely  false  or 
fallacious  as  it  is  frequently  stated  to  be.  On 
the  contrary,  in  the  present  state  of  the  slave- 
holder's heart,  reinforced  as  he  is  by  the 
sympathy  and  self-interested  opinion  of  others 
and  sustained  and  justified  by  the  clerical 
expounders  of  the  will  of  God,  is  it  not  literally 
true  that  slavery  cannot  be  abolished?  But 
withdraw  the  reinforcement  of  public  opinion, 
silence  the  clerical  defenders  of  wrong  and 
purge  the  mind  of  the  slave-holder  from  error 
and  selfishness,  and  slavery  becomes  impossi- 
ble. 

We  are  apt  to  grow  impatient  and  despairing 
at  the  persistency  of  mankind  in  what  we  think 
demonstrated  to  be  wrong.  Thoroughly  per- 
suaded in  his  own  mind,  the  reformer  looks  to 
see  the  considerations  which  influence  and 
decide  him,  fall  with  corresponding  force  and 
effect  upon  the  minds  of  others.  But  it  is 
not  to  be  disguised  that  hitherto  only  a  very 


DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES.        109 

small  portion  of  mankind  have  so  far  attained 
their  full  stature  as  to  form  their  opinions,  still 
less  regulate  their  conduct,  with  simple  refer- 
ence to  right  and  wrong.  It  is  not  wonderful, 
nor  any  ground  for  despair,  when  so  few  in  all 
the  ages  have  reached  this  point,  if  great 
masses  of  men  should  fail  to  reach  it  at  a 
bound. 

It  is  to  be  considered  also,  that  the  prevail- 
ing law  of  human  action,  hitherto,  has  been 
self-interest;  a  low  form  of  expediency. 
However  true  it  may  be  that,  in  a  large  view, 
rectitude  and  true  self-interest  concur,  it  is 
manifest  that  a  view  so  large  (not  to  say 
deep)  as  to  perceive  this  identity,  is  to  be 
expected  of  but  very  few.  Meanwhile,  the 
law  of  expediency,  as  practically  understood 
and  applied,  means  what  is  expedient  for  me, 
what  will  conduce  to  my  advantage,  and  not 
what  is  expedient  on  the  whole  and  will 

conduce  to  the  joint  advantage  of  myself  and 
10 


110      DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES. 

the  world.  An  appeal  to  this  law,  implying 
as  it  cannot  but  do,  the  low  and  degraded 
condition  of  mankind,  is  now  and  ever  has 
been  the  readiest  method  of  influencing 
masses  of  men.  It  is  the  perpetual  postulate 
of  the  politician  and  too  oft6n  of  the  priest. 
In  dealing  with  an  "  institution  "  so  inwrought 
into  the  whole  fabric  of  society  and  character 
as  slavery,  it  is  no  easy  task  to  satisfy  even 
candid  minds  of  the  wisdom  of  its  abolition, 
as  a  mere  point  of  self-interest  or  expediency. 
Still  more  difficult  is  it  to  bring  masses  of 
men  to  throw  aside  all  considerations  of 
interest,  and  sternly  look  at  slavery  as  a 
naked  question  of  right  and  wrong. 

Furthermore,  it  is  -  every  day's  experience  of 
human  nature,  that  men  will  and  do  persist  in 
practices  long  after  they  are  convinced  that 
they  are  hurtful  and  even  sinful.  It  is  only 
by  sudden  lightning-flashes  of  energy,  or  by 
continual  droppings  as  of  the  rain,  that  the 


DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES.       Ill 

iron  chain  of  habit  can  be  rent  or  worn 
asunder.  We  may  then  fairly  expect  that 
sound  opinion  will  precede,  by  a  long  interval, 
right  action.  And  through  what  wildernesses 
of  error  and  prejudice  have  even  the  free 
citizens  of  New  England  to  struggle  before 
they  will  arrive  at  even  a  sound  opinion  on 
the  subject  of  slavery !  The  quickened  con- 
science and  resolved  will  must  follow  after; 
—  and  may  they  follow  soon ! 

The  very  religion  of  mankind  has  hitherto 
been  a  mixture  of  blind  superstition,  ridiculous 
mummery  and  base  hypocrisy,  far  enough  from 
practical  righteousness  and  nearly  as  far  from 
common  sense.  The  application  of  rigorous 
morals  to  the  personal,  social  and  political 
business  and  relations  of  men*  has  but  just 
begun.  And  even  now,  out  of  the  limits  of  a 
very  narrow  circle,  it  is  considered  prepos- 
terous to  subject  practical  affairs  to  the  test  of 
moral  principles.  A  member  of  Congress 


112     DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES. 

would  be  laughed  at  who  should  oppose  war 
with  Mexico  on  the  ground  simply  that  all  war 
is  wrong.  A  merchant  would  be  considered 
unfit  for  business  who  should  decline  to  avail 
himself  of  his  neighbor's  ignorance  of  a  rise  in 
the  price  of  flour,  to  buy  his  whole  stock 
below  the  market  price.  The  preacher  will 
extol  the  majesty  of  the  moral  law  in  sounding 
phrase,  on  Sundays.  It  is  a  familiar  trick  with 
the  orator  to  sound  a  period  or  complete  a 
climax  with  the  august  name  of  God.  It  is 
deemed  becoming  in  women  to  be  pious  and 
punctual  at  prayers  and  preachings.  But  far 
enough  from  business  men,  who  live  out  of 
doors  and  in  the  light,  and  carry  on  the  actual 
work  of  the  world,  has  hitherto  been  the 
needless  punctilio  and  unmanly  weakness  of 
bowing  obediently  to  the  stern  law  of  right. 

It  is  the  glory  of  this  age  that  it  is  beginning 
to  import  truth  and  justice  and  benevolence 
out  of  the  realms  of  theory  and  fancy  into 


DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES.      113 

actual  life  and  bring  them  to  bear  upon  actual 
persons,  institutions,  relations,  usages  and 
opinions.  Properly  speaking,  this  is  the  only 
fit  business  of  mankind ;  or  rather  it  is  these 
principles  which  ought  to  regulate  all  activity. 
Institutions  for  the  blind,  the  insane,  the 
orphan,  the  destitute,  temperance  societies, 
anti-slavery  societies,  are  only  so  many  forms 
of  the  application  of  religion  to  life.  All  of 
them  are  partial,  most  of  them  are  tainted 
with  somewhat  of  selfish  ambition  for  office, 
distinction  or  applause,  in  their  principal  pro- 
moters ;  but  they  are  the  best  things  men  have 
yet  attained  to  socially  —  they  show  how  high 
the  tide  has  yet  risen. 

Looking  at  the  world  from  day  to  day,  it  is 
hard  to  tell  whether  this  tide  is  coming  in,  or 
going  out;  and  perhaps  it  is  actually  rising 
here  while  it  is  refluent  yonder.  Yet  taking 
into  view  a  period  of  a  century,  we  see  that 

there  is  a  steady  progress  onwards.     In  New 
10* 


114      DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES. 

England  we  can  note  in  the  last  ten  years  a 
very  marked  advance  in  the  general  mind 
towards  truth  and  justice.  In  the  metropolis, 
the  State  House  and  Faneuil  Hall  arc  con- 
ceded, without  objection,  even  to  the  Aboli- 
tionists. The  newspapers,  reflecting  popular 
sentiments  with  tolerable-  accuracy,  are  not 
half  as  bitter  as  they  were  ten  years  since 
against  fanatics  and  disorganizes.  Public 
men  too,  are  growing  quite  shy  of  defending 
Southern  prejudices  and  institutions,  and  are 
beginning  to  trim  their  sails  to  the  new  blasts 
of  freedom.  Even  the  churches  arc  not  now 
exclusively  devoted  to  doctrinal  theology  and 
town-meetings,  but  to  a  considerable  extent 
are  open  for  purposes  of  general  philanthropy 
and  humanity.  This  is  something.  Still,  it  is 
undeniable  that  the  mass  of  New  England 
people  are  very  little  disturbed  by  all  the 
atrocities  attending  the  annexation  of  Texas. 
They  do  not  understand  the  principles  of 


DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES.      115 

liberty  xvith  sufficient  clearness,  or  they  do  not 
attach  to  them  sufficient  importance,  to  be 
impelled  to  any  vigorous  opposition.  The  most 
earnest  and  assiduous  efforts  of  the  friends 
of  freedom  have  been  able  to  bring  out  but  a 
feeble  numerical  manifestation,  and  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  general  feeling  is  one  of 
almost  total  indifference.  This  shows  how 
much  more  remains  to  be  done  even  here  than 
has  been  already  accomplished. 

"  From  within,  out  of  the  heart  of  man," 
have  proceeded  all  the  giant  wrongs  which 
obstruct  the  pathway  of  humanity.  The  re- 
medial energy  must  be  awakened  and  evoked 
from  the  same  human  heart.  Slow  as  the 
work  is,  every  blow  tells.  Late  though  the 
harvest  be,  every  wayside  seed  shall  germi- 
nate. 

The  need  of  the  philanthropist  is  unwaver- 
ing faith  and  untiring  patience.  Faith  —  that 
no  wrong  can  so  entrench  itself  in  God's  world 


116       DISCOURAGEMENTS    AND    INCENTIVES. 

as  to  escape  the  dissolution  to  which  it  is 
doomed,  and  110  truth  be  so  beleaguered  that 
it  shall  not  finally  prevail.  Patience  —  to 
work  on  uncheered  by  the  vision  of  speedy 
results,  and  to  maintain  a  serene  peace,  which 
neither  disappointment  nor  delay  can  ruffle. 
The  noble  words  of  the  ancient  astronomer 
are  full  of  the  true  inspiration :  "  If  God  has 
waited  six  thousand  years  for  a  man  to  dis- 
cover his  plan,  I  can  well  wait  for  posterity  to 
appreciate  my  labors." 


117 


OX    READING    J.    H.    W1FFEN  S     TRANSLATION     OF     TASSO. 
BY     GEORGIANA     FANNY     ROSS. 

THREE  hundred  years  had  passed  above  him — 

The  Bard,  who  Salem's  conquest  sung; 
But  none,  alas,  had  learned  to  love  him, 

Save  those  who  spoke  his  mother-tongue. 
We  breathed  his  glorious  name  in  sadness, 

With  labor  made  some  gems  our  own  ; 
Far  better  by  his  wrongs  and  madness, 

Than  triumphs  of  his  genius  known. 

If  some,  with  daring  hand,  endeavored 
To  clothe  his  rhymes  in  English  dress, 

The  spirit  from  the  form  they  severed  ; 
We  closed  the  book  in  weariness. 


118  STANZAS. 

Forever,  through  their  own  unmeetness, 
They  made  his  glowing  numbers  tire : 

We  only  heard  their  native  sweetness, 
In  some  stray  note  from  Spenser's  lyre  — 

Till  thou,  sublimely  thus  transfusing 

The  essence  of  the  Poet's  thought, 
No  word  or  spell  of  beauty  losing, 

At  last  the  noble  work  hast  wrought. 
From  thee,  to  him,  delighted  turning, 

As  fireside  songs  his  lays  we  boast; 
For  pride  and  pleasure  scarce  discerning 

Which  charms  the  raptured  spirit  most. 

In  thee  no  beam  of  genius  dwindles 

To  cold  reflected  light  away  ; 
In  passing,  each  its  fire  rekindles, 

O,  Poet,  at  thy  soul's  warm  ray. 
No  empty  shades,  no  phantoms  meagre, 

Vex  those  who  hold  thy  model  dear ; 
We  read  with  eyes  and  pulses  eager, 

As  if  tli'  original  were  here. 


119 


Yes,  themes  to  whose  harmonious  measure 

Venetian  waters  wept  of  yore, 
Have  now  become  our  England's  treasure.  - 

An  added  wealth  of  household  lore. 
Strains  of  the  spheres,  sublime  and  lonely, 

A  foreign  lay  the  mind  may  move, 
But  in  our  native  accents,  only, 

Becomes  the  song  of  home  and  love. 

O,  honor  to  each  hand,  that  twining 

In  every  soil  the  fairest  flowers, 
A  glorious  coronal  combining, 

Has  made  some  rare  exotic  ours  ! 
And  if,  perchance,  in  gathering,  shaken, 

Some  dew  be  from  its  blossom  gone, 
What  though  the  freshness  thence  is  taken, 

Is  not  the  fragrant  flower  our  own  ? 

London,  Sept.  25th,  1845. 


120  A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS. 


£1  Vision  of  %  Jatljer0. 

BY     JOHN     W.     BE.OWNE. 

I  DREAMED  a  dream.  Time  had  withdrawn 
into  himself  the  last  fifty-seven  years  of  our 
history,  and  they  were  as  though  they  had  not 
been.  I  stood  in  the  Convention  of  Massachu- 
setts, met  at  Boston,  in  1788,  to  consider  of 
the  adoption  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  just  then  proposed  to  the  States  of  the 
Confederation  —  the  time  of  stillness  and  ex- 
pectation—  before  the  nation  was  born.  John 
Hancock  was  in  the  chair.  His  compeers,  to 
the  number  of  more  than  three  hundred,  were 
seated  before  him ;  graver  and  more  manly 
persons  than  I  meet  as  I  walk  these  streets 
now.  The  clause,  in  the  new  Constitution, 
concerning  the  representation  of  three-fifths  of 
the  slaves,  and  that  of  the  continuation  of  the 


A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS.  121 

slave-trade  till  the  year  1808,  were  under  de- 
bate. A  member  rose,  and  said  — 

"  Mr.  President :  I  consider  myself  not  as 
an  inhabitant  of  Massachusetts,  but  as  a  citi- 
zen of  the  United  States.  My  ideas  and  views 
are  commensurate  icith  the  Continent;  THEY 

EXTEND,    IN    LENGTH,    FROM  THE     ST.    CuOIX    TO 

THE  ST.  MARY'S  ;  AND  IN  BREADTH,  FROM  THE 
ATLANTIC  TO  THE  LAKE  OF  THE  WOODS  ; 
for  over  all  this  great  territory  is  the  Fed- 
eral Government  to  be  extended.  No  gentle- 
man within  these  walls  detests  every  idea  of 
slavery  more  than  I  do ;  it  is  generally  detested 
by  the  people  of  this  Commonwealth;  and  I 
ardently  hope  the  time  will  come  when  our 
brethren,  in  the  Southern  States,  will  view  it 
as  we  do,  and  put  a  stop  to  it.  The  Federal 
Convention  went  as  far  as  it  could  in  regard  to 
the  slave-trade.  The  migration  or  importation, 
which  is  not  to  be  prohibited  till  the  year  1808, 

is  confined  to  the   States  now  existing,  only; 
11 


122  A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS. 

new   States    cannot  claim  it.     CONGRESS,   BY 

THEIR  ORDINANCE  OF  1787,  FOR  ERECTING  NEW 
STATES,  DECLARED  THAT  THE  NEW  STATES 
SHALL  BE  REPUBLICAN,  AND  THAT  THERE  SHALL 
BE  NO  SLAVERY  IN  THEM." 

He  took  his  seat,  and  another  member  rose 
and  said  —  "  Sir,  I  have  been  sorry  to  hear  so 
many  objections  raised  against  the  paragraphs 
under  consideration.  I  think  them  wholly 
unfounded.  I  think  that  gentlemen  will  do 
well  to  connect  the  clause  concerning  the 
representation  of  three-fifths  of  the  slaves  with 
the  other  Article,  which  permits  Congress,  in 
the  year  1808,  wholly  to  prohibit  the  importa- 
tion of  slaves,  and  in  the  meantime  to  impose 
a  duty  of  ten  dollars  a  head  on  such  blacks 
as  should  be  imported  before  that  period. 
Besides,  by  the  new  Constitution,  each  State 
is  left,  at  its  own  option,  totally  to  prohibit 
the  introduction  of  slaves  into  its  territories. 
What  could  the  Convention  do  more  ?  It 


A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS.  123 

would  not  do  to  abolish  slavery  by  an  act  of 
Congress,  in  a  moment,  and  so  destroy  what 
our  Southern  brethren  consider  as  property. 
But  we  may  say,  that  though  slavery  is  not 
smitten  ivith  an  apoplexy  (yet  by  the  clause 
permitting  the  prohibition  of  the  slave-trade']  it 
has  received  a  mortal  tvound,  and  will  die  of  a 
consumption"  * 

As  he  was  finishing,  there  came  upon  the 
wall,  above  the  head  of  the  President  and  over 
against  all  the  members,  drawing  all  eyes  to 
itself,  a  map  of  the  United  States,  as  at  the 
treaty  of  1783,  with  outlines  of  fire  —  the  St. 
Croix,  the  St.  Mary's,  and  the  Lake  of  the 
Woods  conspicuously  marked.  Soon  the  fiery 
outline  expanded,  and  took  in,  first,  Louisiana, 
and  then  Florida,  and  then  Texas.  The  free 

*  It  was  the  current  belief  of  the  time  that  slavery 
was  nourished  by  the  slave-trade,  and  that  if  the  trade 
should  be  suppressed  slavery  would  die  out.  That  day 
did  not  dream  of  slave-breeding. 


124  A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS. 

States,  to  the  number  of  thirteen,  remained  all 
in  light ;  and  the  slave  States,  to  the  number  of 
fourteen,  were  all  in  shadow ;  their  names  in 
solemn  black,  ending  to  the  South  with  Florida, 
to  the  South-west  with  Texas.  And  Oregon, 
embraced  within  the  fiery  outline  which  had 
gradually  spread  itself  to  the  West,  was  cqver- 
ed  with  the  living  figures  of  two  adverse 
armies,  rushing  to  battle.  In  the  midst  of  the 
shadow  appeared  the  veiled  genius  of  Liberty, 
her  drooping  forehead  resting  upon  her  hand, 
her  eyes  sadly  closed,  while  at  her  feet  crouch- 
ed a  slave.  Beneath  the  whole,  in  letters  of 
fire,  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA  IN  1845  — 

SLAVE    POPULATION    THREE  MILLIONS. 

While  all  eyes  were  fixed  upon  this  it  be- 
gan to  pass  away ;  and  in  its  place  came  out, 
on  the  wall,  the  figure  of  a  man,  with  his  right 
hand  extended,  branded  S  S,  on  the  palm. 
He  walked  from  the  wall  down  in  front  of  the 
President's  chair,  and  seating  himself  by  the 


A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS.  125 

side  of  Solomon  Freeman,  of  Harwich,*  one 
of  the  delegates,  he  seemed  earnestly  to  speak 
with  him. 

As  he  passed  from  the  wall,  there  took  his 
place  upon  it  the  image  of  a  prison,  with  its 
rows  of  cells.  Over  the  door  of  one  of  them 
was  inscribed,  as  on  a  grave-stone,  CHARLES 
TURNER  TORREY,  of  Massachusetts — for  five 
years  from  April,  1815,  for  aiding  the  escape 
of  slaves.  The  door  slowly  opened,  and  there 
came  from  it  the  figure  of  a  young  man,  pale 
and  emaciated,  who  went  directly  to  the  seat 
of  Charles  Turner,  one  of  the  delegates  from 
Scituate,  and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  knees 
and  embraced  them,  while  the  hand  of  the  old 
man  laid  itself  in  benediction  upon  his  head, 
and  he  bent  down  toward  him  as  one  listening. 
All  saw  how  the  face  of  the  old  man  and  the 
young  man  answered  in  likeness  to  each 
other,  as  it  might  even  be  father  and  son. 

*  Jonathan  Walker's  home. 
11* 


126  A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS. 

All  this  passed  in  a  preternatural  silence,  no 
man  looking  at  his  neighbor,  but  all  at  the 
scene  before  them.  At  length  Charles  Turner 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  said  —  "  My  brethren,  our 
hopes  are  delusive.  The  prophecies  of  good 
which  we  have  just  heard  here  shall  never  be 
realized.  Coming  events  have  cast  their 
shadows  before,  and  we  have  seen  them  even 
now.  Behold  God  has  pictured  to  us  what 
lies  in  the  possibility  of  the  future — in  embryo, 
in  the  womb  of  time,  waiting  for  one  act  to  be 
born  into  visible  existence.  By  no  act  of  ours 
shall  this  possibility  be  made  fact.  The  curse 
of  slavery  shall  live  and  not  die,  if  by  our  act 
this  Constitution  is  adopted.  The  suppression 
of  the  foreign  slave-trade,  after  the  year  1808, 
shall  only  give  place  to  a  domestic  slave-trade, 
which  shall  make  a  coast  of  Guinea  on  this 
side  the  Atlantic.  Proud  Virginia,  the  land  of 
Washington  and  Jefferson,  exhausted  in  her 
soil  by  slavery,  shall  be  abased  into  the  slave- 


A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS.  127 

breeder  for  this  proposed  union.  We  all  see 
the  revelation  —  it  is  clear  to  us  as  the  voice  of 
God.  The  curse  of  slavery  shall  not  only  live 
at  the  South,  if  this  Constitution  be  adopted, 
bat  shall  come  home  to  our  doors.  My  brother 
from  Harwich  shall  declare  what  this  revela- 
tion has  specially  opened  to  him,  as  I  will  now 
declare  what  it  shall  bring  to  the  public  weal, 
and  what  it  has  brought  home  to  my  house 
and  heart." 

He  proceeded  to  state,  as  prophecies,  all  the 
history  of  slavery  under  this  government,  as 
we  to-day  know  it ;  the  purchase  of  Louisiana 
and  Florida ;  the  Missouri  compromise ;  the 
Texas  revolution  and  annexation ;  the  rewards 
offered  in  the  Southern  States  for  the  persons 
of  citizens  of  Massachusetts ;  the  rule  for  lay- 
ing petitions,  touching  slavery,  upon  the  table 
in  Congress;  the  resolutions  to  censure,  the 
threats  to  expel  from  the  House  of  Represent- 
atives, and  murder,  John  Q.  Adams,  for  his 


128  A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS. 

advocacy  of  the  right  of  petition ;  the  whipping 
of  Amos  Dresser  at  Nashville ;  the-  rifling  of 
the  Post  Office  and  the  burning  of  its  contents 
in  the  square  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina ; 
the  shooting  of  Lovejoy  at  Alton,  in  Illinois  ; 
the  mob,  in  Washington  street,  in  Boston, 
haltering,  and  ready  to  murder,  him  who  shall 
be,  in  all  time  hereafter,  the  most  renowned 
son  of  Massachusetts ;  the  burning  of  Pennsyl- 
vania Hall ;  the  imprisonment  of  the  colored 
citizens  of  the  free  States,  in  the  Slave  states, 
and  their  sale  into  slavery,  to  pay  their  jail 
fees ;  the  demand  of  the  Secretary  of  State  of 
the  United  States,  in  1840,  of  England,  to  pay 
for  American  slaves  cast  upon  her  islands,  as 
they  were  being  carried  to  New  Orleans,  and 
liberated  by  her  laws;  the  hopeless  desecra- 
tion of  the  honor  of  Massachusetts,  in  the  igno- 
minious expulsion  of  Mr.  Hoar  from  Charleston 
and  Mr.  Hubbard  from  N.  Orleans ;  the  meet- 
ing of  organized  rebels,  pillaging  the  office  of 


A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS.  129 

Cassias  M.  Clay,  in  Kentucky  —  to  silence  the 
only  voice  that  had  ever  dared,  in  the  slave 
States,  to  lift  itself  up  for  freedom  to  the 
slave ;  the  branding  of  the  hand  of  Jonathan 
Walker,  in  Florida ;  the  imprisonment  of  Web- 
ster, and  Paine,  and  Fairbank,  and  Work,  and, 
finally,  of  his  own  grandson,  the  son  of  his 
daughter,  Charles  Turner  Torrey,  in  the  jail  at 
Baltimore,  for  aiding  slaves  to  obtain  their 
freedom,  in  Maryland,  in  1844. 

He  sat  down.  A  long  period  of  silence 
followed;  all  sitting  motionless  in  their  seats, 
in  the  act  of  thought.  Then  they  spoke  to 
each  other  in  consultation,  and  the  vote  was 
taken  upon  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution. 
It  was  rejected  unanimously.  All  the  New 
England  and  Middle  States  followed  the  ex- 
ample of  Massachusetts;  and,  in  the  history 
of  the  Republic,  the  shameful  events  which 
slavery  has  written,  stood  unrecorded;  the 
loom  of  time  stopped ;  and  from  the  web  of 


130  A    VISION    OF    THE    FATHERS. 

our  country's  fate,  as  it  was  weaving  there, 
the  black,  black  threads  were  cut,  and  again  it 
went  on  weaving. 

Boston,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


A    REMONSTRANCE.  131 


3.  Hcmonstrana. 

BY    ALARIC     A.     WATTS. 

OH  !  say  not  thou  art  all  alone 

Upon  this  wide  cold-hearted  earth ; 
Sigh  not  o'er  joys  forever  flown  — 

The  vacant  chair,  the  silent  hearth ; 

Why  should  the  world's  unholy  mirth 
Upon  thy  quiet  dreams  intrude, 

To  scare  those  shapes  of  heavenly  birth 
That  people  oft  thy  solitude  ? 

Though  many  a  fervent  hope  of  youth 

Hath  passed,  and  scarcely  left  a  trace ; 
Though  earth-bom  love,  its  tears  and  truth. 

No  longer  in  thy  heart  have  place ; 

Nor  time,  nor  grief,  can  e'er  efface 
The  brighter  hopes  that  now  are  thine ; 

The  fadeless  love,  all-pitying  grace, 
That  makes  thy  darkest  hours  divine ! 


132  A    KEMONSTRANCE. 

Not  all  alone  ;  for  thou  canst  hold 

Communion  sweet  with  saint  and  sage, 
And  gather  gems,  of  price  untold, 

From  many  a  consecrated  page ; 

Youth's  dreams,  the  golden  lights  of  age, 
The  poet's  lore,  are  still  thine  own ; 

Then,    while    such    themes    thy    thoughts 

engage, 
Oh !  how  canst  thou  be  all  alone ! 

Not  all  alone ;  the  lark's  rich  note, 

As  mounting  up  to  heaven  she  sings  ; 
The  thousand  silvery  sounds  that  float 

Above  —  below  —  on  morning's  wings  ; 

The  softer  murmurs  twilight  brings, 
The  cricket's  chirp,  cicada's  glee  ; 

All  earth  —  that  lyre  of  myriad  strings  — 
Is  jubilant  with  life  for  thee  ! 

Not  all  alone  ;  the  whispering  trees, 
The  rippling  brook,  the  starry  sky, 


A    REMONSTRANCE.  133 

Have  each  peculiar  harmonies 
To  soothe,  subdue,  and  sanctify ; 
The  low  sweet  breath  of  evening's  sigh, 

For  thee  hath  oft  a  friendly  tone, 

To  lift  thy  grateful  thoughts  on  high  — 

To  say  —  thou  art  not  all  alone  ! 

Not  all  alone ;   a  watchful  eye 

That  notes  the  wandering  sparrow's  fall, 
A  saving  hand  is  ever  nigh, 

A  gracious  Power  attends  thy  call. 

When  sadness  holds  thy  heart  in  thrall, 
Oft  is  His  tenderest  mercy  shown ; 

Seek  then  the  balm  vouchsafed  for  all, 
And  thou  canst  never  be  alone ! 

London,  Eng. 


12 


134  THE    DREAM    WITHIN    A    DREAM. 


<&!)£  Prcam  tmtljin  a  Prmm. 

ALTERED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  JEAN  PAUL  F.  RICHTER. 
BY     E.     LEE. 

HIGH  above  the  earth  hung  the  serene  sky. 
A  rainbow,  like  the  ring  of  eternity,  encircled 
the  horizon,  and  broken  thunder-clouds,  that 
still  murmured  with  the  retreating  thunder,  lay 
near  the  eastern  gate  of  Eden.  The  evening 
sun  looked  behind  tears  in  its  setting,  and 
shone  on  the  thunder-clouds,  and  touched 
with  glory  the  triumphal  arches  of  nature. 

The  spectacle  made  me  happy,  and  I  closed 
my  over-full  eyes.  As  the  last  rays  of  the 
sun  penetrated  my  closed  eyelids,  I  heard  no 
sound  but  the  low  whisperings  of  nature. 
Then  fell  the  dew  of  sleep  upon  my  soul,  and 
the  spring  around  was  shrouded  with  a  soft 


THE    DREAM    WITHIN    A    DREAM  135 

gray  cloud;  but  soon,  beams  of  light,  in  varie- 
gated lines  of  beauty,  began  to  play  upon  the 
cloud,  and  in  my  sleep  the  cloud  was  painted 
over  with  the  bright  pictures  of  dreams. 

I  dreamed  I  stood  upon  the  SECOND  WORLD. 
Around  me  were  deep  green  fields,  that  in  the 
distance  seemed  covered  with  flowers  and 
variegated  with  broken  woods,  through  which 
mountains,  streaked  with  golden  light,  appear- 
ed. Meanwhile  the  meadows  wavered,  but 
riot  as  if  touched  by  zephyrs,  but  by  the  invisi- 
ble wings  of  souls  that  hovered  over  them. 
These  souls  of  the  second  world  were  to  me 
invisible,  for  the  body  is  there  a  transparent 
veil. 

On  the  shore  of  this  second  world  stood  the 
Virgin  Mary,  near  her  son,  and  looked  down 
into  our  earth,  with  its  pale  and  transient 
spring,  that  swam  beneath  them,  as  upon  a 
sea  of  ether,  and  appeared  only  as  a  reflection 
of  the  sun  upon  its  dark  and  troubled  waves, 


136  THE    DREAM    WITHIN    A    DREAM. 

Mary  looked  tenderly  upon  her  old  beloved 
earth,  and  said  to  Jesus  — "  Ah,  my  son,  my 
heart  languishes  to  know  something  of  my 
brethren  upon  the  earth!  Draw  the  earth 
towards  us,  that  I  may  look  into  their  eyes. 
Let  me  look  into  the  hearts  also  of  living  men, 
and  behold  again  their  joys  and  their  sorrows." 

Christ  replied,  "  The  earth  is  full  of  dreams ; 
thou  must  sleep,  that  they  may  appear  to 
thee." 

Mary  answered,  "  I  will  gladly  sleep,  that  I 
may  dream  of  men." 

But,  said  Christ,  "  What  shall  the  dream 
reveal  ? " 

"  Oh,"  said  Mary,  "  show  me  human  love ! 
Show  me  human  justice  !  Show  me  the  belov- 
ed, meeting  again  after  a  long  separation ;  and 
the  suffering,  made  happy  by  human  mercy." 

While  she  spake,  the  angel  of  sleep  stood 
behind  her ;  and  Mary  sank  back,  with  closed 
eyes,  upon  his  breast. 


THE  DREAM  WITHIN  A  DREAM.      137 

The  earth  arose,  but  as  it  drew  near,  it 
appeared  smaller  and  paler  than  before.  The 
clouds  parted,  and  the  fog  rolled  away,  and 
laid  open  the  night  upon  the  earth,  wherein 
its  own  stars  were  visible.  The  children  of 
of  the  earth  slept  peaceftdly,  and  smiled  when 
Mary  appeared  to  them  in  their  dreams.  But 
in  this  night  there  was  one  unhappy  ;  one  that 
no  dream  could  soothe  ;  only  her  complaints 
were  now  silent,  her  sighs  were  exhausted, 
and  her  eye  had  lost  all,  even  its  tears !  An 
echo  from  the  Gods-acre*  repeated  the  sighs 
and  the  whispers  from  the  house  of  mourning. 
The  heart  of  the  bereaved  one  melted  within 
her,  and  the  tears  gushed  anew  from  her 
wounded  eyes,  and  she  cried,  beside  herself 
with  grief,  "  Didst  thou  call  me,  O  !  beloved, 
with  thy  cold  lips  ?  Didst  thou  speak  to  thy 
bereaved  one?  Oh,  speak  once  again;  only 
once  again  !  —  No  !  all  is  silent ;  there  is  no 

*  Graveyard. 
12* 


138  THE    DREAM    WITHIN    A    DE.EAM. 

voice  from  the  grave !  The  buried  lies  dumb 
there,  and  his  broken  heart  emits  no  sound !  " 

But  Mary  heard  a  voice  that  called  from  the 
second  life  —  "  Wherefore  weepest  thou,  be- 
loved ?  Where  have  we  been  so  long  ?  We 
dreamed  that  we  had  lost  each  other !  " 

They  had  not  lost  each  other ;  they  had  met 
again !  From  Mary's  closed  eyes  gushed  tears 
of  joy ;  and  before  she  could  wipe  them  away 
the  earth  had  again  sank  down. 

Now  there  arose  a  meteor  from  the  earth, 
and  a  fleeting  soul  trembled  at  the  gate  of 
the  second  world,  as  though  it  had  left  the 
earth  unwillingly.  The  body  from  which  this 
soul  had  departed  lay  now  in  peace,  although 
with  all  the  deep-worn  scars  of  a  long  life 
upon  it.  Near  the  fallen  tabernacle  of  the 
spirit  stood  an  old  man,  who  thus  addressed  it : 
"  I  am  as  aged  as  thou !  Why  then  true,  faith- 
ful wife,  didst  thou  leave  me  alone  ?  Every 
morning,  every  evening,  I  think  how  low  thou 


THE  DREAM  WITHIN  A  DREAM.      139 

wilt  sink  in  the  earth  ere  I  also  shall  sink 
beside  thee  !  Oh  why  am  I  alone  ?  No  one 
listens  to  the  old  man  now !  Every  morning 
I  long  for  thy  true  hand,  and  thy  gray  hair ; 
and  that  my  feeble  life  may  close  with  sorrow ! 
Ah!  then,  All- Good!  close  it  to-day,  without 
pain ! " 

But  Christ  sent  not  the  death-angel  with  his 
cold  hand.  He  looked  himself  upon  the  desert- 
ed old  man  with  such  a  sun-warmth  in  his 
heart  that  the  ripe  fruit  loosened  of  itself; 
and  like  a  clear  flame  his  spirit  broke  from  his 
breast,  and  met,  at  the  threshold  of  the  SECOND 
WORLD,  the  beloved  partner  of  his  life;  and 
gently,  together,  they  entered  Paradise. 

Mary  reached  both  hands  lovingly  to  them, 
and  said,  in  her  dream,  "  Blessed !  remain  for- 
ever united ! " 

But  wherefore  is  thy  face  so  radiant,  Mary, 
like  that  of  a  happy  mother  ?  Is  it  because  thy 
earth  becomes  more  radiant  with  its  spring 


140  THE    DREAM    WITHIN    A    DREAM. 

flowers,  and  rises  more  nearly  to  the  second 
world?  Thou  smilest  as  happily  as  if  them 
saw  a  mother  who  had  found  her  child. 

"  And  is  it  not  a  mother,"  Mary  answered, 
"  who  bends  herself,  and  opens  her  arms,  and 
cries,  '  My  child !  come  again  to  my  heart  ? '  Is 
it  not  her  own  child,  that  was  so  early  parted 
from  her,  and  now  stands,  innocent,  near  its 
guardian  angel,  so  early  made  happy?  The 
mother  draws  her  again  to  her  full  heart,  warm 
with  a  mother's  love  !  'Oh  !  look  at  me,  thou 
dear  one,  and  smile  thus  forever ! '  " 

Mary  said,  turning  to  her  son,  "  Ah !  only 
a  mother  can  love  thus  —  only  a  mother ;  and 
her  happiness  is  like  that  of  the  second  world." 

Now  ascended  from  the  earth  a  crimson 
pillar  of  vapor  and  smoke,  and  gathered  itself 
together  to  conceal  a  battle-field.  At  length 
the  smoke  parted  and  revealed  wounded  men, 
that  lay  in  each  other's  bleeding  arms.  Among 
them  were  lofty  friends,  who  had  sacrificed 


THE  DREAM  WITHIN  A  DREAM       141 

each  other,  and  their  friendship,  to  their  re- 
spective countries.  "  Rest  thy  wounded  breast 
on  mine,  beloved  friend !  thou  hast  sacrificed 
me  to  thy  country,  and  I,  thee !  Now  we 
may  again  exchange  our  hearts  before  our  life 
bleeds  away !  Ah,  we  can  now  only  die  with 
each  other." 

But  death  turned  back,  and  the  iceberg  with 
which  it  crushes  mortals,  melted  upon  their 
warm  hearts.  They  rose  from  the  terrible 
battle-field  men,  to  whom  the  earth  could  give 
nothing  more.  Mary  looked  significantly  at 
her  son ;  lie  only  could  comprehend,  and  con- 
sole, and  fill  the  hearts  of  such  men. 

But  Mary  turned  away  her  eyes,  and  mel- 
ancholy, even  in  her  sleep,  filled  her  heart ;  for 
the  voice  of  crime,  and  the  moan  of  sorrow 
were  still  heard  in  her  beloved  earth. 

She  slept  again  —  and  now  the  sounds  of 
jubilee  and  joy  broke  upon  her  dreaming  ear. 
They  arose  far  above  our  little  earth,  and 


142  THE    DREAM    WITHIN    A    DREAM. 

reached  the  shores  of  the  second  world.  Mary 
looked,  and  her  face  was  radiant  with  a  higher 
joy  than  had  yet  shone  upon  it.  She  saw  that 
cruelty  and  oppression  had  ceased ;  the  chains 
of  the  slave  had  fallen  off!  Millions  of  human 
hearts  that  were  full  of  tenderness,  and  honor, 
and  noble  virtues,  had  become  free  !  Families 
and  friends  were  rushing  together  with  cries 
of  rapture !  Children  were  pressed  to  the 
hearts  of  mothers,  who  had  groaned  and  lan- 
guished when  they  were  torn  away!  Hus- 
bands and  wives,  separated  and  sold  into 
distant  slavery,  were  again  united !  The  young 
maiden,  brutally  forced  to  serve  a  strange 
master,  had  found  again  her  betrothed !  Oh  ! 
what  a  soul-reviving  sound  of  deep  heart-felt 
joy,  mingled  with  gratitude  and  reverence, 
went  up  from  these  millions  of  human  hearts. 

Mary  looked  at  her  son.  A  divine  rapture 
irradiated  her  features.  "  Son,"  she  said,  "  thy 
precepts  are  fulfilled  upon  the  earth!  Men 


THE  DREAM  WITHIN  A  DREAM.     143 

begin  to  love  each  other  as  brethren!  The 
great  plague-stain  and  shame-spot  is  washed 
from  our  earth!  The  fair  portion,  where  a 
pestilential  vapor  had  hidden  the  slough  of 
crime  and  cruelty,  infamy  and  despair,  is 
changing  into  a  blooming  Paradise  of  faith 
and  love,  human  virtue  and  celestial  hopes  !  " 

I  awoke  !    My  dream !  Ah,  was  it  a  dream  ? 
Will  it  not  be  a  reality? 

Boston,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


144  THINK    OF    THE    SLAVE. 


of 


BY     JOHN     BOWRING. 

SONS   of  the  hills!  who  feel  the  fresh,  free 

breeze, 

See  the  free  birds  among  the  waving  trees, 
Hear  the  glad  sounds  of  heaven's  free  melo- 
dies — 

Think  of  the  slave  ! 

Sons  of  the  vales  !  where  flows  the  unfettered 

rill, 

Singing  its  inland  song  —  rejoicing  still  — 
Wandering  or  lingering  at  its  own  sweet  will  — 
Think  of  the  slave  ! 

Sons  of  the  ocean  !  when  the  raging  sea 
Dashes  the  rocks,  —  majestically  free  — 
While  the  storm's  thunders  shout  of  liberty  — 
Think  of  the  slave  ! 


THINK    OF    THE    SLAVE.  145 

Sons  of  the  desert !  where  the  fierce  simoom 
Mantles  with  clouds  the  earth,  —  the  sky  with 

gloom, 

But  flees  when  gentler  influences  come  — 
Think  of  the  slave ! 

Sons  of  the  city !  where  the  eternal  tide 
Of  agitation  rolls  on  every  side, 
Urging  its  restless  surges  far  and  wide  — 
Think  of  the  slave  ! 

Sons  of  the  Deity !  whose  word  hath  said, 
"  I  of  one  blood  have  all  —  all  nations  made, 
I  am  their  common  Father  and  their  head  "  — 
Think  of  the  slave  ! 

London,  Sept.  29,  1845. 


13 


146  SELF-DENIAL. 


BT   WILLIAM     H.     FURNESS. 

A  GREAT  crowd  had  gathered  and  were  fol- 
lowing Jesus  of  Nazareth,  that  strange  young 
man,  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  ex- 
pectation by  the  astonishing  things  he  was 
doing,  and  by  the  air  of  authority  with  which 
he  bore  himself.  "  This  is  the  man,"  they  began 
to  say  within  themselves,  "  to  lead  us  on  to 
conquest,  and  realize  the  glorious  predictions 
of  our  ancient  prophets."  Visions  of  greatness 
were  beginning  to  flit  before  the  excited  im- 
aginations of  the  Jewish  multitude. 

But  in  the  midst  of  their  glowing  dreams, 
he,  upon  whom  the  public  attention  was  so 
intensely  fixed,  and  on  whose  steps  this  great 
crowd  was  pressing,  turned,  and  said,  "  Who- 
soever doth  not  bear  his  cross  and  come  after 


SELF-DENIAL.  147 

me,  cannot  be  my  disciple."  What  a  sensa- 
tion must  these  words  have  produced!  Me- 
thinks  I  see  the  people  turning  one  to  another 
with  looks  of  astonishment  and  inquiry, 
wondering  what  was  meant.  "  What  is  it  that 
he  says?  No  man  can  be  a  follower  of  his 
unless  he  take  a  cross,  that  horrible  instrument 
of  death,  and  follow  this  Jesus,  bearing  it  on 
his  shoulders,  like  a  doomed  person  carrying 
the  cross  on  which  he  is  to  suffer,  to  the  place 
of  execution ! "  What  a  revulsion  must  the 
language  of  Jesus  have  caused  in  the  minds  of 
the  crowd !  How  deeply  must  they  have 
been  shocked ! 

And,  judging  as  the  world  is  accustomed  to 
judge,  now-a-days,  we  must  say  that  his  lan- 
guage was  very  indiscreet.  The  idea  of  the 
present  day  is,  that  if  one  seeks  to  reform  his 
fellow-men,  he  must  be  very  cautious  in  the 
language  he  uses.  He  must  take  good  care 
how  he  breathes  a  word  that  shall  offend  those 


148  SELF-DENIAL. 

whom  he  is  trying  to  correct.  He  must  be 
careful  not  to  waken  the  evil  passions  which 
he  strives  to  chain.  He  must  contrive  to  lull 
men  into  a  sort  of  mesmeric  slumber,  in  which 
their  darling  prejudices  and  beloved  sins  may 
all  be  skilfully  amputated,  without  their  ever 
having  the  slightest  suspicion  of  it.  Would  to 
God  there  were  such  a  way  of  getting  rid  of 
the  evil  that  is  in  us,  of  cutting  out  the  diseased 
parts  of  our  spiritual  frame,  without  wounding 
any  sensibilities !  There  are  many  wonderful 
discoveries  in  these  days,  but  this  would  be 
the  greatest  discovery  made  yet.  But  there  is 
no  such  way.  Yet  we  would  fain  dream 
otherwise.  And  accordingly  we  must  pro- 
nounce the  language  of  Jesus  very  injudicious. 
There  was  he,  trying  to  win  people  to  listen  to 
him ;  and  yet  on  a  public  highway,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  promiscuous  crowd,  made  up  of  wise 
and  simple,  friends  and  foes,  he  declared  that 
to  be  a  friend  of  his  a  man  must  hate  father 


SELF-DENIAL.  149 

and  mother,  and  consider  himself  condemned 
to  a  most  terrible  death  !  What  occasion  did 
he  give  to  the  evil-disposed  to  misrepresent, 
and  to  the  well-disposed  to  misunderstand 
him  !  "  Why  listen  to  him,"  might  his  enemies 
exclaim  —  "  he  would  abrogate  the  sacred  dic- 
tates of  nature.  He  teaches  people  to  hate 
father  and  mother.  He  flies  in  the  face  of  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  the  first  law  of  our 
being,  telling  men  they  must  hate  themselves  ! 
He  is  crazy,  why  hear  ye  him?"  And  his 
friends  could  only  say :  "  He  means  well.  It 
is  a  pity  he  talks  thus,  he  only  hurts  his  own 
cause." 

But  the  words  of  Jesus,  which  to  our  igno- 
rant way  of  thinking  seem  so  unguarded,  have 
proved  to  be  words  of  consummate  prudence, 
of  the  soundest  judgment.  What  though  they 
shocked  all  who  heard  them,  although  few  or 
none  caught  so  much  as  a  shadow  of  their 

meaning ;  what  though  they  were  uttered,  inci* 
13* 


150  SELF-DENIAL. 

dentally,  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  earth,  and 
no  one  stood  by  with  pen  in  hand  to  write 
them  down,  and  not  an  individual  in  all  that 
crowd  thought  of  committing  them  to  memory ; 
yet  they  fell  like  drops  of  flame,  and  burnt 
themselves  into  the  mind  of  the  world.  They 
passed  from  the  lips  of  Jesus  into  the  common 
air ;  and  now,  for  ages,  they  have  floated  like 
the  air  around  the  world,  mingling  with  the 
elements  which  are  the  principles  of  all  vital- 
ity. They  could  not  but  be  remembered,  and 
they  will  never  be  forgotten.  They  shall 
sound,  as  they  have  sounded,  in  the  ears  of 
centuries  of  men. 

And  it  is  because  they  are  so  strong,  be- 
cause they  are  weakened  by  no  qualifying 
clauses,  because  they  express  a  great  truth 
greatly,  with  a  force  of  expression  correspond- 
ing in  some  degree  to  the  importance  of  the 
thought  expressed,  for  this  reason  they  have 
been  powerful  enough  to  perpetuate  them- 


SELF-DENIAL.  151 

selves.  Had  Jesus  spoken  with  caution,  lie 
would  have  spoken  without  force.  If  he  had 
startled  110  prejudices,  he  would  have  made  no 
impression.  It  was  needful  that  the  hearts  of 
men  should  be  stirred  to  their  inmost  depths, 
that  the  truth  might  penetrate  to  their  hidden 
springs. 

Besides,  Jesus  could  not  have  spoken  other- 
wise. He  knew  that  what  he  had  to  say  was 
true,  and  that  being  true,  it  was  invested  with 
the  qualities  of  omnipotence  and  eternity,  and 
had  all  the  forces  of  nature,  animate  and 
inanimate,  visible  and  invisible  to  protect  and 
aid  it.  While,  therefore,  he  never  needlessly 
shocked  human  hearts,  yet  when  occasion 
came  for  the  truth  to  be  spoken,  he  spoke  it 
with  a  commanding  authority,  without  qualifi- 
cation and  without  fear.  Had  he  studied  the 
caprices  of  men,  had  he  timidly  sought  to 
avoid  misapprehension,  it  would  have  implied 
a  respect  for  the  ignorance  and  willfulness  of 


152  SELF-DENIAL. 

men,  which  they  do  not  merit,  (for  what  are 
these  against  the  truth  of  God?)  and  a  distrust 
of  the  supremacy  of  truth,  which  would  have 
ill  become  one  who  knew  that  he  was  repre- 
senting the  majesty  of  the  Almighty,  and  who 
had  been  foretold  as  one  whose  coming  should 
be  as  with  wind  and  fire  from  Heaven. 

The  occasion  demanded  strong  language. 
Those  multitudes  were  following  Jesus  with 
hearts  throbbing  with  hopes  of  vengeance  and 
national  renown.  Had  he  shown  the  slightest 
disposition  to  avail  himself  of  the  interest  he 
had  awakened,  they  would  have  rushed  to 
arms  at  his  word.  On  other  occasions  he  was 
forced  to  hide  himself,  so  bent  were  the  people 
upon  making  him  their  leader.  On  the  pres- 
ent occasion,  he  was  resolved,  as  it  seems,  to 
cut  up  their  false  expectations  by  the  roots. 
They  were  hoping  he  would  lead  them  to  a 
throne.  He  saw  before  him  the  grim  figure  of 
the  cross.  He  was  declaring  truths  against 


SELF-DENIAL.  153 

which  an  unprincipled  hierachy  were  leagued. 
He  saw  how  the  things  he  said  were  at  war 
with  the  established  customs  and  institutions 
of  the  world  around  him,  how  men  would  be 
enraged  at  him,  how  necessary  it  was  that  he 
should  seal  his  testimony  to  truth  with  his 
blood.  A  like  fate,  he  knew,  awaited  every 
one  who  joined  him.  It  was  inevitable.  The 
friend  of  truth  must  suffer,  and  must  make  up 
his  mind  to  it  once  for  all.  Whoever  intended 
to  be  a  follower  of  Christ  must  steel  his  heart 
against  all  the  importunities  of  affection  and 
self-love.  He  must  be  as  insensible  to  the 
strongest  domestic  ties  as  if  no  such  ties  bound 
him ;  as  indifferent  to  his  nearest  kindred  and 
to  his  own  life,  as  if  he  loathed  them ;  as  fully 
prepared  to  be  crucified  as  if  he  were  bending 
under  the  weight  of  the  cross  and  were  on  his 
way  to  execution.  Shocking  as  this  state  of 
the  case  was,  still  it  was  the  truth ;  and  it  was 
necessary  that  the  people  should  know  it 


154  SELF-DENIAL. 

Jesus  wished  them  to  count  the  cost  of  disci- 
pleship ;  to  follow  him,  not  blindly,  but  with 
their  eyes  open,  as  he  himself  says  in  this 
same  connexion.  "  For  which  of  you,  intend- 
ing to  build  a  tower,  sitteth  not  down  first  and 
counteth  the  cost,  whether  he  have  sufficient 
to  finish  it ;  lest  haply  after  he  hath  laid  the 
foundation,  and  is  not  able  to  finish  it,  all  that 
behold  it  begin  to  mock  him,  saying,  this  man 
began  to  build  and  was  not  able  to  finish." 

Such  is  the  Christian  doctrine  of  self-denial. 
Whosoever  would  be  a  friend  of  Jesus,  must 
carry  his  cross  and  follow  him.  This  was  the 
indispensable  condition.  In  no  other  way 
could  one  be  a  Christian.  Is  it  so  still?  Or 
is  it  not  so  ?  That  the  words  of  Christ  had  an 
application  at  the  time  they  were  uttered, 
which  they  have  not  now,  I  will  not  deny. 
But  some  seem  to  think  that  their  pertinency 
is  now  wholly  done  away,  that  the  day  of 
persecution  is  past.  But  who  says  that  ?  It 


SELF-DENIAL.  155 

is  true,  fidelity  to  truth  does  not  expose  one  to 
the  tortures  of  crucifixion.  Still  let  any  one 
endeavor  to  live  by  the  plainest  precept  of 
Christ — that  reiterated  commandment  of  his, 
for  instance,  which  bids  us  love  our  neighbor 
as  ourself,  and  acknowledge  the  lowest  of 
men  as  a  brother  of  Jesus,  nay,  as  Jesus  him- 
self, and  he  must  be  prepared  to  see  friends 
grow  cold,  and  hearts  alienated,  in  whose 
good-will  he  rejoices.  He  must  endure  the 
reproach  of  an  unwise  zeal,  and  be  content,  if 
others  in  their  charity  only  pronounce  him. 
insane.  In  this  proud  day  of  Freedom  and 
Christianity,  it  is  not  safe  to  plead  the  simple 
cause  of  Christian  love,  of  human  mercy.  It 
endangers  our  comforts.  It  exposes  us  to  cold 
looks  and  hard  words,  and  fills  our  path  with 
sharp  and  painful  annoyances.  These  things 
are  not  to  be  named  with  the  tortures  to  which 
the  first  friends  of  Jesus  were  subjected. 
Still  such  things  are,  and  it  requires  the  self- 


156  SELF-DENIAL. 

renouncing  spirit  of  Christianity  to  bear  them ; 
and  they  show  that  self-denial  is  as  necessary 
as  ever.  It  is  impossible  to  be  a  Christian 
without  it.  All  claims  to  the  Christian  name, 
no  matter  how  fully  they  may  be  conceded 
by  men,  are  worthless  without  the  spirit  of 
self-sacrifice.  Without  that,  no  matter  what 
else  we  have,  we  are  strangers  to  Jesus — no 
friends  of  his. 

And  it  is  wise  to  consider  to  what  such  a 
condition  of  estrangement  from  him  amounts. 
If  we  have  no  spiritual  relation  to  him,  if  we 
lack  the  mind  that  was  in  him,  we  lack  the 
spirit  of  true  men.  Alienated  from  him,  from 
his  truth  and  love,  we  are  alienated  from  all 
good,  all  peace,  all  hope,  all  life.  And  the 
question  whether  we  will  adopt  Christian 
truth  and  live  by  it,  is  a  question  of  life  and 
death  with  us,  in  the  deepest  meaning  of  the 
words.  Shall  our  existence  be  a  miserable 
defeat,  or  a  glorious  victory  —  our  joy  or  our 


SELF-DENIAL.  157 

shame  —  our  heaven  or  our  hell?  Shall  we 
join  the  immortal  communion  of  the  just,  and 
rejoice  in  the  ministry  of  all  good  angels  ?  Or 
shall  we  give  ourselves  up  to  be  enslaved  and 
tormented  by  the  powers  of  evil  and  darkness  ? 
This  is  the  question,  and  nothing  less  than 
this ;  and  to  one  or  the  other  alternative  we 
must  make  up  our  mind. 

But  how  can  we  obtain  this  essential  virtue 
of  self-denial  ?  How  get  courage  to  encounter 
the  deprivation  of  things  which  we  fondly 
love  ?  How  make  up  our  minds  to  enter  upon 
a  path,  of  the  difficulties  of  which  we  can  see 
no  end,  no  diminution  but  in  the  grave  ?  Jesus 
and  his  friends  relinquished  every  pleasant 
prospect  in  life.  Danger  and  death  stood 
always  before  them.  How  can  we  ever  find 
it  in  our  hearts  to  follow  them  ?  It  is  hard  to 
bear  the  alienation  of  those  we  love,  to  ex- 
change their  confidence  for  their  indifference 

if  not  their  ill  will,  to  part  forever  with  all  the 
14 


158  SELF-DENIAL. 

delicious  flatteries  of  friendship,  and  all  the 
satisfactions  of  popularity.  Where  shall  we 
get  the  strength  that  is  needed  ? 

If  we  rightly  estimate  the  importance  of 
being  friends  with  Jesus,  if  we  have  a  just 
sense  of  the  worth  of  the  things  for  which  all 
these  sacrifices  are  to  be  made,  we  shall  find 
nothing  in  the  world  so  easy  as  to  do  and 
endure  to  the  uttermost  for  truth's  sake.  We 
shall  rejoice  to  suffer  for  it.  This  is  the  way 
to  destroy  the  difficulty  of  self-denial  and  give 
to  its  bitterness  the  sweetness  of  heaven  —  by 
an  entire  devotion  to  right.  When  the  heart 
is  once  possessed  with  this  devoted  love,  there 
is  no  longer  any  such  thing  as  self-sacrifice. 
Then  we  live.  And  life,  by  whatsoever  bur- 
thens crushed,  even  under  the  terrible  weight 
of  the  cross,  becomes  a  luxury,  and  it  is  bless- 
edness to  live  even  amidst  tears  and  blood. 

This  truth  is  illustrated  in  far  inferior  mat- 
ters. Let  a  man  be  inspired  with  an  ardent 


SELF-DENIAL.  159 

love  of  knowledge,  and  when  lie  is  once  an 
enthusiast  in  any  department  of  science,  there 
is  no  privation,  no  suffering  that  he  will  not 
endure,  and  cheerfully,  for  the  sake  of  his 
favorite  pursuit.  Fatigue,  hunger,  thirst,  sep- 
aration from  friends  and  from  all  human  so- 
ciety, the  dangers  of  unexplored  wildernesses, 
wild  beasts  and  savages,  all  these  things  he 
accounts  as  nothing,  if  he  is  adding  to  the 
stores  of  his  beloved  science.  You  have 
heard  of  the  surgeon  who,  after  performing  a 
painful  operation,  began  to  praise  the  fortitude 
of  the  patient,  and  was  told  that  the  patient 
had  been  screaming  at  the  top  of  his  voice  all 
the  while.  But  the  surgeon  had  not  heard 
him.  Thus  the  action  of  the  bodily  senses 
even  may  be  suspended,  when  any  object  has 
taken  possession  of  the  heart.  The  lover  of 
gain  —  to  what  sacrifices  does  he  submit,  of 
which  he  is  wholly  unconscious  !  He  cares 
neither  for  sleep  nor  food.  All  the  enjoyments 


160  SELF-DENIAL. 

of  company,  all  the  delights  of  the  country  he 
surrenders  for  the  sake  of  his  dim  and  dusty 
counting-room.  He  gives  up  all  the  pleasures 
of  spending  money,  for  the  sole  satisfaction  of 
making  it.  No  religious  devotee  ever  submit- 
ted to  greater  self-sacrifices.  But  in  fact  he 
does  not  know  what  you  mean,  when  you 
speak  of  his  self-denials.  He  is  happy  in  his 
bargains  and  his  profits,  and  has  meat  to  eat 
that  you  know  not  of.  Would  he  speak  his 
honest  mind,  he  would  pronounce  literature, 
poetry,  art,  freedom,  and  truth,  all  the  most 
arrant  humbugs. 

In  like  manner  the  friend  of  Jesus  and 
servant  of  Truth  must  be  so  occupied  with 
his  service  —  it  must  be  such  a  passion  with 
him  that  he  does  not  know  annoyance.  We 
read  of  martyrs  —  feeble  women,  who  have 
endured  the  acutest  tortures  without  a  groan — 
with  songs  of  triumph.  The  fact  is  they  were 
so  elevated  by  the  consciousness  of  serving 


SELF-DENIAL.  161 

the  truth,  that  their  physical  sensibilities  were 
deadened.  Thus  was  it  with  the  personal 
friends  of  Jesus  —  very  humble  men,  poor 
fishermen,  whose  aims  never  extended  beyond 
the  sea  of  Galilee  and  the  simple  occupations 
of  then-  craft,  their  boats,  and  their  nets.  But 
Jesus  came  and  filled  their  minds  with  a  great 
idea,  and  instantly  they  are  emboldened  to 
confront  magistrates  and  mobs,  and  endure 
dungeons  and  death. 

Thus  must  all  men,  in  all  times,  find  strength 
to  bear  their  burthens,  to  become  men  in  great 
thoughts,  in  right  principles  —  sacred  truths 
living  in  the  heart,  and  opening  its  inexhausti- 
ble fountains  of  power.  Thus  alone  can  we  do 
our  duty  in  our  social  relations.  We  need  the 
inspiration  of  truth,  and  the  love  of  truth. 
This  is  the  grace  of  God,  this  the  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  necessary  to  the  growth  of 
those  private  affections  that  gather  round  the 

domestic  altar,  and  to  the  life  of  every  great 
14* 


162  SELF-DENIAL. 

public  cause,  the  establishment  of  a  religion, 
the  revolution  of  a  nation,  the  vindication  of 
great  natural  rights.  We  must  have  faith  in 
principles  —  Truth,  Justice,  Mercy,  the  found- 
ations on  which  the  world  rests,  the  pillars  of 
the  everlasting  throne,  the  attributes  of  the 
Omnipotent,  and  then  alone  shall  we  have 
power. 

And  although  it  may  seem  hard  to  become 
interested  in  these  things  invisible  and  eternal, 
as  we  must  be  interested ;  although  they  now 
appear  to  most  visionary,  mere  abstractions 
and  not  principles  more  solid  than  the  rocks 
and  mountains,  yet  God  has  made  us  to  be 
interested  in  nothing  so  deeply.  And  there  is 
nothing  the  worth  of  which  is  in  so  many 
ways  made  manifest  The  whole  universe  is 
the  gospel  of  their  kingdom,  and  poets,  patri- 
ots, apostles  and  martyrs,  all  join  in  hymning 
their  majesty.  By  the  illustrations  of  their 
value  which  every  page  of  man's  history  pre- 


SELF-DENIAL.  163 

sents,  by  every  violation  of  them  that  we 
witness,  how  solemnly  is  their  sovereign 
dignity  asserted!  The  wrongs  of  that  great 
multitude  upon  our  soil,  who  lie  under  the 
mountain- weight  of  merciless  prejudice  and 
trampled  under  the  feet  of  unjust  power,  how 
do  they  appeal,  irumpet-tongued,  in  behalf  of 
Justice  and  Mercy  !  The  highest  in  nature  is 
pleading  thus  with  the  highest  and  deepest  in 
man ;  and  although  individual  voices  may  be 
silenced,  this  voice  of  God  will  keep  sounding 
on,  till  all  hearts  quake  at  the  thunders  of  its 
remonstrance.  We  may  for  a  while  persist  in 
being  interested  in  other  things,  in  the  vanish- 
ing shadows  and  corruptible  gew-gaws  of  the 
senses.  Still  nothing  can  so  take  hold  of  the 
inmost  heart  of  man,  nothing  so  kindle  it  into 
a  glow,  as  the  sense  of  the  right  and  the  true. 
And  the  coolest,  most  self-interested  and  most' 
calculating  man  on  earth  shall  throw  his  mon- 
ey-bags into  the  sea,  if  need  be,  and  set  fire  to 


164  SELF-DEXIAL. 

his  houses,  with  his  own  hand,  when  once  his 
heart  is  touched  with  the  divine  love  of  Free- 
dom, Justice,  and  Mercy.  It  is  the  love  of  all 
goodness,  the  love  of  God,  the  soul  of  all 
religion,  the  fountain  of  all  life,  the  gate  of 
Heaven.  May  God's  grace  descend  upon  us 
and  breathe  into  us  a  boundless  love  of  what 
is  just  and  humane,  and  so  give  us  to  be 
partakers  of  the  Divine  nature  and  power. 
May  humanity  be  the  all-commanding  interest 
with  us;  for  what  does  the  Lord  our  God 
require  of  us  but  that  we  do  justly  and  love 
mercy  and  walk  humbly  with  our  God.  Mark 
the  phrase,  love  mercy.  Love  is  active,  irre- 
pressible. It  does  not  fold  its  arms,  but  runs 
on  the  wings  of  the  wind  to  defend  the  weak 
against  the  mighty,  and  to  search  out  the 
cause  of  the  friendless  and  the  oppressed. 

Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania,  U.  S. 


FIGHT    ON  !  165 


©n! 


BY     W  M  .     LLOYD     GARRISON. 

IN  retrospection,  champions  of  th'  enslaved, 
Great  triumphs  have  been  won,  as  ye  behold  ; 
The  foe  grows  weak  as  ye  in  hope  wax  bold, 
And  greatly  fears  what  once  he  madly  braved. 
Yet,   though  your   pathway  be   with    glories 

paved, 

And  fresh  recruits  are  constantly  enrolled, 
How  much  remains,  ye  need  not  now  be  told, 
For  you  to  vanquish,  ere  the  land  be  saved. 
Still   groan    the    suffering    millions    in    their 

chains, 

Still  is  the  arm  of  the  oppressor  strong, 
Still  Liberty  doth  bleed  at  all  her  veins, 
And  few  are  they  who  side  not  with  the 

wrong: 

Consider  then  your  work  as  just  begun, 
Until  the  last  decisive  act  be  done. 

Boston,  November,  1845. 


166  SOME    PASSAGES 


0ome  |)assaje0  from        joetr   of  Cife. 


BY    MART    HOWITT. 

HUMAN  life  is  full  of  poetry.  From  the 
cradle  to  the  grave  the  life  of  every  man  and 
woman  is  an  epic  poem.  Look  only  at  that 
little  child,  brim  full  of  life  and  love  and  laugh- 
ter, with  his  round  plump  limbs,  his  rosy 
cheeks,  his  merry  eyes  sparkling  with  arch 
meaning,  and  his  curling  golden  locks  ;  he  is 
the  very  personification  of  every  object  and 
idea  of  happiness.  He  might  fitly  represent 
spring,  or  joy,  or  love  ;  for  what  does  he  know 
of  faded  or  fading  leaves  and  flowers,  of  hearts 
broken  or  of  disappointed  hopes  ?  Such  a  one 
as  he  might  the  second-born  of  Eve  have 
been,  ere  he  learned  to  tremble  before  the 
anger  of  his  elder  brother.  Such  a  one  might 
have  been  young  John,  girt  about  with  his 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  167 

garment  of  camel's  hair,  playing  alone  in  the 
wilderness.  Such  might  have  been  the  very 
Saviour  himself,  seated  on  his  mother's  knee, 
and  looking  into  her  face  with  those  eyes  of 
intensest  love,  or  playing,  like  a  descended 
angel,  beside  the  work-bench  of  the  carpenter 
Joseph. 

Yes,  indeed,  a  little  child,  whether  prince  or 
peasant,  is  beautiful  in  its  young  joyous  hu- 
manity !  It  is  the  opening  page  of  life's  epic, 
and  it  begins,  like  a  spring  morning,  all  songs 
and  sunshine,  and  when  every  drop  of  dew  is 
a  lesser  rainbow. 

Turn  now  to  the  closing  page  —  or  rather 
look  upon  that  old  man.  His  frame  is  bent, 
his  limbs  are  slow  and  heavy,  his  hair  is  thin 
and  frosted  and  white  as  snow ;  his  eyes  are 
sunken  and  dull,  and  he  takes  but  a  cool  in- 
terest in  whatever  passes  before  him.  Day 
after  day,  winter  and  summer,  the  whole  year 
through,  may  he  be  seen  breaking  stones  to 


168  SOME    PASSAGES 

mend  the  highway.  God  help  him !  It  is  a 
joyless  and  monotonous  occupation;  yet  that 
is  a  fair  sample  of  old  age,  for  the  man  is 
neither  crippled  by  accident  nor  disfigured  by 
disease.  He  will  even  laugh  at  some  quiet 
jokes,  or  make  merry  over  many  a  story  of  his 
younger  days.  He  will  tell  you  moreover  that 
he  has  nothing  to  complain  of;  "  he  can  earn 
his  shilling  a  day;  and,  bless  the  Lord!  the 
parish  is  willing  to  pay  his  rent." 

Between  the  first  and  the  last  page  what  a 
long  and  varied  and  strange  history,  —  yet  all  is 
poetry !  Not  written  out  in  measured  lines  to 
fall  upon  the  ear  with  a  sweet  cadence,  but 
to  startle  the  heart  with  its  vitality,  to  come 
home  to  our  own  bosoms  with  all  the  force  of 
experience,  and  to  infuse  into  our  spirits  a 
holy,  yet  sad  sympathy,  and  a  kindly  Christian 
love !  Oh  if  we  would  but  regard  our  human 
kindred  in  this  broad  spirit  of  philanthropy, 
how  different  would  its  lot  soon  become.  For 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  169 

this  spirit  is  Christianity,  which  is  poetry  in  its 
most  elevated  form,  and  in  this  spirit  all  men 
are  brothers  !  Then  should  we  see  many  a 
sinner,  not  with  the  eyes  of  human  judgment, 
but  as  the  Saviour  himself  saw  them.  Un- 
happy women,  walking  the  streets  at  nightfall, 
who,  having  taken  one  downward  step,  can 
never  return,  though  weeping  tears  of  blood — 
sinking  into  irretrievable  ruin,  because  they 
know  that  with  their  fellow-beings  there  is 
neither  pity  nor  pardon  —  even  such  should 
we  often  see  more  sinned  against  than  sin- 
ning ;  for  the  spirit  of  Christianity  is  emphati- 
cally that  of  mercy  and  forgiveness. 

But  now  let  us  return,  and  between  the  first 
few  pages,  which  we  hastily  scanned,  and  the 
last,  let  ns  open  at  random  anywhere,  and 
what  shall  we  find  ? 

There  is  the  child  at  school,  suddenly  re- 
moved from  all  the  domestic  charities  to  a 

little  world  of  strangers,  and  often,  more 's  the 
15 


170  SOME    PASSAGES 

pity,  very  hard-hearted  towards  the  new- 
comer. He  wears,  poor  little  soul,  a  brave  face 
all  the  day,  because  he  has  been  told  that  it  is 
unmanly  to  cry ;  —  but  as  evening  creeps  on, 
sad  home-thoughts  nestle  about  his  heart,  and 
come  crowding  into  his  brain,  and,  do  what  he 
will,  he  can  resist  no  longer.  And  thus  he  gets 
his  first  bitter  experience  of  an  aching  heart. 

Again,  there  is  a  group  of  poor  children.  It 
is  an  evening  in  May,  and  they  are  all  busied 
over  a  little  dreary  triangle  of  mould  in  a  din- 
gy corner  of  a  dingy  city-court.  They  are 
meanly  clad,  thin  and  squalid,  and  ill-grown, 
and  one  or  two  of  them  are  crippled  —  yet 
they  seem  happy  at  that  moment.  It  is  not 
seeming,  it  is  reality,  for  they  have  this  day  a 
holiday.  They  are  otherwise  the  bora  thralls 
of  Mammon,  of  the  system  which  requires  the 
daily  labors  of  the  poor  man's  youngest  born 
to  eke  out  the  miserable  daily  pittance.  Poor 
little  wretches !  And  yet  for  the  present  they 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  171 

are  happy.  The  day's  work  is  for  once  remit- 
ted, and  here  in  this  dismal  nook  of  the  thickly 
peopled  city,  has  the  influence  of  Spring  pene- 
trated, and  they  are  making  a  garden !  What 
a  melancholy  attempt  to  create  something 
pleasant  to  look  upon.  The  meanest  of  us 
has  an  inborn  craving  after  the  beautiful. 
Thus  is  it  therefore  that  the  withered  remains 
of  the  nosegay,  brought  by  one  of  their  fathers 
about  a  week  ago  out  of  the  real  country,  are 
stuck  about,  looking  to  their  imagination  as 
natural  as  life.  Yes,  and  there  is  the  gerani- 
um too,  which  grows  in  a  broken  teapot,  and 
has  been  borrowed  for  the  occasion,  from  the 
good-natured  widow  in  the  corner ;  and  some- 
body else  has  contributed  a  sickly  wall-flower 
which  has  languished,  not  lived,  through  the 
winter,  in  an  old  blacking-bottle  !  This  forlorn 
attempt  at  a  garden  is  really  a  very  affecting 
thing  to  any  heart  that  has  an  atom  of  sympa- 
thy, and  we  should  eschew  the  man  who 


172  SOME    PASSAGES 

would  scoff  at  it.  For  ourselves,  we  could 
shed  tears  over  it,  for  it  tells  of  strong  but 
ineffectual  yearnings,  and  of  small  experience, 
picking  up  two  or  three  miserable  grains  of 
happiness,  and  contriving  to  make  them  yield 
marvellous  contentment. 

But  sadder  by  far  than  the  squalid  city 
children,  playing  at  a  sham  garden,  is  it  to  see 
them,  the  melancholy  victims  of  hereditary 
disease,  lying  on  hospital  beds  —  we  have 
seen  them  —  and  who  that  has  gone  the  round 
of  a  hospital  has  not?  —  nor  shall  we  soon 
forget  them. 

In  the  midst  of  a  room  full  of  suffering 
wretches,  lay  one  on  its  little  bed,  pale  and 
patient,  dying  by  a  doleful  disease,  yet  withal 
wonderfully  beautiful.  At  that  moment  it  was 
asleep,  with  flushed  cheek,  and  abundant  soft 
brown  hair  parted  from  its  white  forehead, 
and  its  thin  pale  hand,  holding  with  a  re- 
laxed grasp  a  gaily  painted,  and  somewhat 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  173 

expensive  toy,  which  some  visitor,  touched 
with  pity,  like  ourselves,  had  sent.  We  re- 
marked upon  the  beauty  of  the  child. 

"  Poor  thing ! "  said  the  kindly  physician 
who  was  with  us,  "  she  has  been  with  us  two 
months,  but  she  will  not  be  here  much  longer." 

"  Indeed  !  "  we  replied  with  pleasure,  "  then 
she  is  much  better." 

"  She  is  incurable  ! "  replied  he,  "  she  must 
either  die  shortly,  or  live  a  loathsome  specta- 
cle of  disease." 

"  Ay,  poor  dear,"  remarked  the  matron  who 
was  standing  by,  "  it  is  a  thousand  pities,  for 
she's  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  But,  bless  you, 
we  've  only  too  many  such ! " 

So  it  was !  And  as  we  left  the  walls  of  the 
hospital,  we  felt  that  twenty  homilies  could 
not  have  spoken  half  so  forcibly  in  favor  of 
virtue,  as  did  the  wretched,  suffering  forms  of 
those  guiltless  victims  of  shame  and  sorrow ! 

But  there  are  bright  as  well  as  dark  pas^ 
15* 


174  SOME    PASSAGES 

sages  in  this  epic  of  ours.  There  is  the  band 
of  rosy  village  children  setting  forth,  warmly 
cloaked,  this  Christmas  Eve,  to  sing  in  their 
sweet  young  voices  some  old  carol  which  tells 
quaintly  the  glad  event  that  happened  in  Gali- 
lee when  the  shepherds  and  the  wise  men 
also,  went  up,  guided  by  the  wonderful  star, 
to  worship  and  to  rejoice  over  the  new-born 
Saviour.  Then  there  is  the  sudden  striking 
up  of  sweet  music  at  midnight,  —  whether  it 
be  of  heaven  or  of  earth,  we  cannot  at  the 
moment  tell  —  horns  and  drums,  and  shrill 
fifes,  and  deep-toned  instruments,  to  celebrate 
the  same  advent.  And  there  is  the  ringing  of 
bells  on  a  bright  calm  Sabbath  morning,  filling 
the  universal  air  with  a  floating  murmur  of 
sweet  sound,  for  it  is  the  Sabbath  through  the 
whole  length  and  breadth  of  Christendom.  In 
ancient  famous  cities  peal  out  the  cathedral 
bells ;  and  down  in  sequestered  vallies  among 
the  pastoral  hills,  and  from  the  rocky  glens  of 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  175 

the  mountains,  wherever  there  is  a  village 
church,  rises  the  glad  sound  also.  We  won- 
der no  longer  that  honest  John  Bunyan  tells 
us  that  "  all  the  bells  of  the  heavenly  city  rang 
again  for  joy  as  Christian  and  his  companion 
entered  at  the  Celestial  Gate!"  —  for  there  is 
no  sound  more  joyful  and  heavenly  than  the 
ringing  of  church  bells  on  a  bright  Sabbath 
morning.  It  is  full  of  poetry ! 

And  is  there  not  poetry  also  in  the  throngs 
that  pass  onward  on  the  Sabbath  morning 
through  the  streets  of  cities,  to  their  several 
places  of  worship  ?  Family  after  family  are 
there ;  —  the  aged  man  and  the  infant,  fathers, 
mothers  and  little  children,  rich  and  poor,  all 
attired  in  their  best,  bound  on  the  holy  errand 
of  worshipping  the  Universal  Father.  Yes. 
there  is  poetry  in  it !  So  is  there  also  —  and 
deep  soul-stirring  poetry  too  —  in  the  Catholic 
woman  who  has  been  forth  on  some  little 
errand  of  household  duty  perhaps,  and  who 


176  SOME    PASSAGES 

places  her  basket  beside  her  and  kneels  down 
a  solitary  worshipper  in  some  ever-open  cathe- 
dral. So  also,  when  at  the  hour  of  vespers  the 
toiling  fishermen  leave  dragging  their  nets, 
and,  taking  off  their  caps  and  folding  their 
hands  upon  their  breast,  sing  the  hymn  to  the 
Virgin.  Or,  when  the  little  child,  going  or 
coming  from  school,  kneels  bareheaded  at  the 
wayside  cross,  repeats  its  simple  prayer,  and 
then  runs  homeward.  Religion  is  poetry  in 
its  sublimest  form ! 

Birth  and  death  are  the  beginning  and  the 
ending  of  our  epic,  and  christenings,  marriages 
and  funerals  are  consequently  among  its  con- 
spicuous events.  Hark !  now,  how  the  bells 
ring  again,  — the  merry  bells  of  one  village  — 
see  too,  how  the  whole  village  is  alive  !  Old 
and  young  are  looking  out  from  door  and  win- 
dow, for  the  squire's  daughter  is  this  day  to  be 
married.  "  Happy  is  the  bride  whom  the  sun 
shines  on,"  and  this  day  the  morning  is  golden 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  177 

with  sunshine.  And  see,  here  comes  the 
bridal  array,  —  open  carriages,  prancing  horses, 
smartly  arrayed  postillions  displaying  their 
white  favors ;  and  there  sits  the  bride  blushing, 
in  all  her  beautiful  attire;  and  her  attendant 
bridemaidens,  all  looking  more  lovely  than 
common  creatures  of  the  earth.  And  the 
bridegroom  and  his  men,  how  handsome  and 
gallant  are  they  !  It  is  a  gay  and  happy  com- 
pany ;  who  would  not  wish  them  joy  ? 

There  is  something  in  all  this,  however, 
which  causes  a  thrill  at  the  heart,  and  sends 
the  tears  to  the  eyes.  The  very  pageantry  of 
the  thing,  independently  of  its  human  interest, 
has  an  electric  effect  on  the  spirit,  for  every 
pageant  is  more  or  less  affecting.  God  help 
us,  for  simple-hearted  souls !  but  there  has 
come  a  choaking  sensation  in  the  throat  when 
even  a  Whitsuntide  procession  of  matrons 
and  maidens,  each  bearing  "  her  flower-lipped 
wand,"  has  passed  in  a  goodly  array,  to  the 


178  SOME    PASSAGES 

sound  of  music,  and  with  a  crimson  and  blue 
banner  borne  aloft,  up  the  street  to  the  open 
church;  —  for  there,  too,  we  felt  that  there 
was  poetry ! 

There  is  poetry  too  in  every  funeral.  In 
that  of  the  little  child  borne  to  its  early  grave 
by  six  young  maidens,  all  in  white.  Yes, 
truly,  in  every  funeral !  —  from  the  stately 
hearse  with  nodding  plumes,  and  six  black 
horses  in  their  trappings  of  woe,  with  its 
attendant  mourning  coaches,  its  solemn  mutes, 
and  its  coffined  procession,  by  torch-light,  to 
the  ancient  vault  of  the  family ;  aye  —  down 
to  that  of  the  parish  pauper,  borne  in  his  shell 
of  naked  boards  011  the  shoulders  of  his 
pauper  brethren,  to  his  shallow  grave  in 
some  crowded  and  desolate  town  church-yard. 
There  is  indeed  much  poetry  in  a  funeral ! 
And  who  has  not  been  suddenly  aware,  as  we 
ourselves  have  been,  perhaps  in  some  dull 
winter's  afternoon,  of  a  low  wailing  music 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OP    LIFE.  179 

coming  onward  from  a  distance,  —  that  never- 
to-be-forgotten  "  dead  march  in  Saul,"  which 
announced  a  soldier's  funeral?  The  most 
striking  funeral  however  of  this  sort  which  we 
ever  witnessed,  had  very  little  of  parade  about 
it ;  it  was  merely  the  funeral  of  a  young  re- 
cruit. There  came  up  the  market-place  of 
the  town  where  we  then  were,  this  low  sad 
melody;  and  then  we  saw  —  not  the  plumed 
cap  and  sword  laid  upon  the  coffin,  and  the 
led  horse,  with  the  numberless  accoutrements, 
—  nor,  following  after,  his  brother  soldiers  as 
mourners ;  there  was  in  this  case  only  the  old 
black  hat,  with  its  gaudy  ribbons  round  it,  and 
his  old  brown  jacket  —  for  he  was  a  coun- 
try lad,  who  had  enlisted ;  but  immediately 
followed  a  woman,  whom  there  was  no  mis- 
taking for  a  moment;  she  was  his  mother. 
She  had  followed  her  son  from  a  distant 
county,  full  of  trouble  and  anxiety,  in  the 
hope  of  buying  him  off  and  taking  him  back 


180  SOME    PASSAGES 

with  her :  for  he  was  her  only  son,  and  she 
was  a  widow.  She  had  sold  and  pawned 
various  little  articles  to  prepare  herself  for  this 
long  and  arduous  journey,  and  to  release  her 
prodigal.  She  came  a  stranger  to  the  town, 
only  to  find  her  son  dead,  and  to  follow  his 
body  to  the  grave.  To  see  her  was  to  feel  a 
portion  of  her  anguish.  A  soldier  supported 
her,  and  the  loud  wail  of  her  lamentation 
mingled  with  the  melancholy  music.  Never 
did  the  pathos  of  real  sorrow  strike  our  hearts 
as  at  that  moment ! 

Are  not  meetings  and  partings  also  moment- 
ous tilings  ?  Lovers'  first  meetings,  for  in- 
stance, from  which  all  after-life  takes  its  tone 
of  misery  or  bliss.  And  partings !  Partings 
on  the  eve  of  battle  —  partings  at  the  foot  of 
the  scaffold  —  partings  in  the  midst  of  ship- 
wreck, to  meet  again  a  few  moments  after,  in 
eternity  —  partings  on  the  sea-beach  —  fare- 
wells, whose  tone  can  never  pass  away  from 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  181 

the  heart  —  and  partings,  also,  sometimes  of 
strange  mystery.  Do  we  not  ourselves  know  the 
young  wife,  whose  husband,  a  happy-visaged 
and  kind-hearted  man,  and  a  man  of  easy  cir- 
cumstances also,  laid  down  the  book  he  was 
reading  to  her  after  dinner,  and  taking  up  his 
hat,  said  he  would  return  for  tea  ?  "  Good-bye, 
love,"  were  his  words,  spoken  with  an  un- 
troubled voice  as  he  closed  the  door.  He 
hummed  a  merry  air  as  he  stood  for  a  moment 
on  the  outer  step,  passed  into  the  street,  and 
thenceforward  was  never  heard  of  more  !  He 
was  a  man  of  good  reputation ;  his  fortune 
was  prosperous ;  not  the  slightest  imputation 
was  whispered  against  him ;  he  was  happy  in 
his  home,  a  loving  and  beloved  husband,  and 
he  had  many  friends ;  —  there  was  no  earthly 
reason  for  his  concealing  himself.  It  was 
broad  daylight,  in  the  long  days  of  summer, 
and  in  a  seaport  town,  where  he  lived  and 

where  he  was  well  known.     But  neither  in 
16 


182  SOME    PASSAGES 

ship  nor  boat  had  he  left  the  port ;  nor  could  it 
be  discovered  that  he  had  left  the  town  either 
by  coach  or  any  other  conveyance.  The  earth 
might  have  opened  and  swallowed  him  up,  for 
any  trace  that  could  ever  be  gained.  From 
that  night  forth  he  never  was  heard  of,  either 
in  England  or  any  other  land.  It  was  a  mys- 
terious fate,  to  which  death,  in  any  form,  had 
been  preferable. 

"  Good-bye,  love  ! "  was  forever  in  the  ear  of 
that  bereaved  woman,  and  she  became  old 
before  her  time.  By  intense  listening,  night 
and  day,  for  his  returning  footstep,  she  has 
become  partially  deaf;  there  was  a  wild 
anxiety  in  her  eye  whenever  the  door  opened, 
which  told  painfully  what  had  become  the 
habit  of  her  mind  through  melancholy  years  of 
hope  deferred.  What  his  fate  really  was, 
heaven  only  knows,  and  whether  he  will  ever 
return.  Were  he  ever  to  do  so,  their  meeting- 
moment  would  be  the  concentrated  joy  of  a 


FROM    THE    POETRY    OF    LIFE.  183 

life ;  like  a  condensed  essence,  strong  enough 
to  kill. 

Yet  there  have  been  such  meetings.  Ship- 
wrecked men  have  returned  after  long  years 
of  absence ;  prodigal  sons  have  come  back  to 
their  fathers'  house ;  the  secret  captive  has 
been  released  from  his  prison-cell,  and  restored 
to  his  family  like  one  whom  the  grave  had 
given  up ;  —  for  human  life,  as  we  have  before 
said,  has  many  a  sorrowful  and  many  a  strange 
incident. 

Clapton,  England. 


184  CHARACTER. 


Bonnet...  .Character. 

BY     WM.     LLOYD     GARRISON. 

WHO  talks  of  weariness  in  Freedom's  cause, 

Knows  nothing  of  its  life-sustaining  power; 
Who  in  the  conflict  for  the  right  would  pause, 

Beneath  a  tyrant's  rod  was  made  to  cower ; 
Who  something  loves  more  than  his  brother 
man,  — 

Holds  it  more  sacred,  at  a  higher  price,  — 
Fails  to  discern  Redemption's  glorious  plan, 

Or  in  what  sense  Christ  is  our  sacrifice  ; 
Who  stands  aloof  from  those  who  are  agreed 

In  charity  to  aid  and  bless  mankind, 
Because  they  walk  not  by  his  narrow  creed, 

Himself  among  the  fallen  spirits  shall  find  ; 
Who  would  show  loyalty  to  God  must  be 

At  all  times  true  in  man's  extremity. 

Boston,  November,  1845. 


THE    CHURCH.  185 


BY     WENDELL     PHILLIPS. 

"  Let  not  the  Pope,  the  bishops,  or  the  monks  exclaim  against  us, 
WE  are  the  Church ;  he  who  separates  from  us,  separates  himself 
from  the  Church.  There  is  no  other  Church  —  save  the  assembly  of 
those  who  have  the  word  of  God,  and  who  are  purified  by  it."— 
MELANCTHON. 

"  One  hour  of  justice  is  worth  seventy  days  of  prayer." — KORAN. 

"  CEASE  to  trouble  our  meetings  with  this 
subject.  The  Church  is  no  Anti-slavery  So- 
ciety." 

Will  you  join  me  then  in  a  specific  effort  to 
abolish  slavery  ? 

"No.  "Pis  a  dangerous  thing  this  forming 
of  societies  for  each  single  evil.  I  preach  the 
Gospel,  which  will  gradually  cure  them  all." 

Doubtless  the  Gospel  is  the  only  cure  for 
human  evils  and  sins  —  the  cross  of  Christ  the 
only  sheet-anchor  for  the  hopes  of  the  race. 

From  the  newly  opened  pages  of  the  Bible 
16* 


186  THE    CHURCH. 

burst  forth  the  dawn  of  that  civilization  which 
gladdened  the  West  of  Europe.  That  same 
sun  still  rides  high  over  its  noon  —  and  is  to 
know  no  setting.  All  this  we  acknowledge  ; 
but  hcnv  is  the  work  to  be  done  ? 

Not  by  Christian  scholars  growing  gray  over 
the  disputed  texts  of  the  Epistles :  — 

Not  by  divines  immersed  in  the  question 
whether  a  goblet,  or  a  running  stream  is 
necessary  for  Baptism :  — 

Not  by  churches  rent  asunder  with  theories 
of  three  orders  of  clergy,  or  none. 

No.  But  by  the  earnest  thought  and  works 
of  Christian  men  and  women,  looking  not  at  the 
things  which  are  behind,  but  pressing  forward 
to  grapple  with  the  wants  and  the  woes  of 
their  own  day.  Why  does  God's  spirit 
strengthen  human  nature  with  all  the  graces 
of  the  Christian  character?  That  the  pos- 
sessor may  sit  and  contemplate  his  own  per- 
fections ?  If  he  do,  like  the  youth  of  classic 


THE    CHURCH.  187 

fable,  his  soul  will  die  feasting  on  its  own 
beauty.  That  he  may  build  up  a  sect  ?  That 
he  may  sit  and  think  how  surely  he  would  have 
avoided  the  scepticism  of  the  Sadducee,  or  the 
bigotry  of  the  Pharisee,  and  not  have  stoned 
the  Prophets  ? 

No.  Men  and  women  are  endowed  by 
Christianity  with  hearts  lifted  above  selfish- 
ness—  filled  with  love  for  their  race  —  con- 
vinced of  the  possibility  of  virtue  —  of  the 
safety  of  doing  right  —  of  the  value  of  truth  — 
not  only  or  wholly  for  their  own  sakes,  but 
that  these  powers  may  be  used  intently  and 
earnestly  in  analysing  the  institutions  and 
exposing  the  corruptions  of  society,  defending 
the  rights  of  the  poor,  seeking  out  the  hidden 
sources  of  public  suffering,  "attending  to  the 
neglected  and  remembering  the  forgotten  !  " 

Christianity  is  not  merely  a  contemplative 
hermit,  rapt  in  visions  and  dwelling  on  its 
own  states  of  feeling  —  no  acute  metaphysi- 


188  THE    CHURCH. 

cian,  nervously  weighing  creeds  —  but  a  living 
voice,  crying  to  the  busy  throng,  "  repent ; "  a 
denouncer  of  "wickedness  in  high  places," 
telling  unjust  wealth  to  "weep  and  howl;" 
bidding  "  kings  to  rule  in  righteousness  ; "  full 
of  woes  for  such  as  "  devour  widows  houses ; " 
setting  "at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised." 
She  is  as  proud  of  Benezet  as  of  Pascal ; 
and  loving  Fenelon  well,  gives  as  bright  a 
crown  to  Howard,  and  girds  as  cheerfully  for 
the  battle  the  rough  and  sturdy  frame  of 
Luther  and  the  wild  zeal  of  Savonarola. 

Now-a-days  the  mass  of  society  recognise 
the  duty  and  the  worth  of  alms-giving  and 
Sunday  Schools  —  cheap  soup  and  the  primer. 
For  the  Church  remains  a  higher  and  a  harder 
work.  Standing  in  the  van,  her  prophetic  eye 
should  be  the  first  to  descry  suffering,  even 
though  the  cloud  be  no  bigger  than  a  man's 
hand:  her  heart,  touched  with  liveliest  sym- 
pathy, is  to  be  poured  out  first  in  its  behalf: 


THE    CHURCH.  189 

hers  is  to  be  that  wisdom,  the  child  of  good- 
ness, which  \sfirst  to  devise  the  remedy. 

How  shall  that  body  dare  to  call  itself  the 
Church  of  Christ,  which  allows  any,  out  of  her 
pale,  to  go  before  her  own  sons  in  keen  sym- 
pathy with  suffering,  or  active  effort  for  its 
relief?  In  the  tender  heart,  the  open  hand, 
the  brain  that  beats  not  for  sectarian  or  selfish 
ends,  but  only  that  the  wide  race  may  be  hap- 
pier and  better,  dwells  the  true  Church  of 
Him  "  who  went  about  doing  good." 

Instead  of  this  the  Church,  which  has  been 
for  ages  getting  ready  to  do  her  work,  now 
refuses  to  set  about  it.  Having  scattered  so 
long  the  seeds  of  reform  and  elevation,  she 
sits  still,  now  that  the  fields  are  white  for  the 
harvest.  She  disowns  the  principles  which 
have  sprung  from  her  bosom,  brands  them  as 
infidel,  and  gathers  into  her  idle  fold  those 
timid  sheep,  which  she  can  still  govern,  lest 
they  be  corrupted  by  the  "running  to  and 


190  THE    CHURCH. 

fro  and  increase  of  knowledge" — the  very 
blessing  of  which  her  prond  prophets  heralded 
her  as  the  bearer.  Claiming  to  have  on  the 
breastplate  of  righteousness  —  she  refuses  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  battle.  Claim- 
ing to  hold  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  —  she 
keeps  it  nicely  sheathed,  while  other  men 
contend  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints. 

The  Church  rests,  even  in  her  own  theory, 
(among  us)  when  she  has  reformed  her  own 
subjects,  forgetting  that  other  duty  of  using 
their  virtues  and  her  position  to  reform  the 
guilty  institutions  of  society.  This  is  her 
theory.  In  practice  she  rests  without  reform- 
ing either  the  individual  or  the  mass. 

Her  army  is  all  equipped  —  and  she  idly 
expects  to  keep  them  active  and  disciplined 
without  exercising  their  virtues  in  constant 
warfare.  God  has  paid  back  this  desertion  of 
her  post  with  barrenness.  After  copying  the 


THE    CHURCH.  191 

Jesuits  "  in  lengthening  the  creed  and  shorten- 
ing the  Decalogue,"  Christians  seem  to  think 
that  Christianity  itself,  in  the  abstract,  is  some- 
how or  other  to  work  wonders,  —  but  with  all 
that  they  have  nothing  to  do. 

"  Stand  still,  and  see  the  salvation  of  the 
Lord,"  said  Dr.  Arnold,  "was  true  advice  to 
the  Israelites  on  the  shores  of  the  Ked  Sea. 
It  would  have  been  false  when  they  were  to 
conquer  Canaan." 

Boston,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


192  TO    THE    TRANS-ATLANTIC 


Ctnes 

TO    THE    TRANS-ATLANTIC   FRIENDS    OF    THE    SLAVE. 
BY     DANIEL     RICKETSON. 

YE,  who  across  the  broad  Atlantic  wave, 
Have  sent  your  kindly  voices  hitherward, 
Whilst  those  who  should  by  our  right  side  be 

found, 

Have  recreant  proved  to  Nature  and  to  Truth, 
We  gladly  hail  ye  as  our  cherished  friends ! 
Ye,  who  afar  from  such  heart-rending  scenes, 
As  blot  the  fair  fields  of  our  native  land, 
Have  wept  to  hear  the  distant  tale  of  woe. 
Ye,  in  whose  breasts  no  base-born  hate  resides, 
Ye,  who  can  look  on  Afric's  sable  sons, 
And  call   them  brethren,  heirs  of  the   same 

rights, 

That  the  great  Giver  of  all  good  designs 
For  Man,  wherever  found  throughout  the  globe. 


FRIENDS    OF    THE    SLAVE.  193 

We  love  to  rank  ye  with,  the  truly  great  — 
The  noble  benefactors  of  our  race. 
Clarkson,  thy  life  awakens  in  our  souls, 
The  truest  worship  due  to  Love  and  Truth. 
Our  infant  lips  oft  lisped  thy  reverend  name, 
And  with  increasing  years  our  love  has  grown. 
And  ye  of  later  date,  ye  noble  ones, 
To   whom  we   owe   so   much  of  cheer  and 

strength ! 
Your  names  are  watch-words  in  our  sacred 

cause. 

Thompson,  thy  thrilling  tones  of  eloquence, 
Upraised  for  Scotland  in  the  name  of  Right, 
Not  yet  have  died  away  upon  our  ears  — 
Those   words   of  truth  are   treasured  in  our 

hearts. 

Bowring,  thy  gifted  pen,  so  freely  lent, 
To  spread  the  cause  of  Freedom  and  of  Truth ; 
Haughton  and  Webb,  so  constant  at  your  posts, 
Ye  clear  and  fearless  pleaders  for  the  Right ; 

And  Martineau  and  Pease,  your  generous  aid, 
17 


194     TO  THE  FRIENDS  OF  THE  SLAVE. 

We  fondly  prize  among  our  choicest  gifts : 
Abdy,  thee,  too,  whose  rich  and  classic  claims 
Are  unsurpassed  but  by  thy  feeling  heart ; 
And  Morpeth,  nobler  in  the  cause  of  Truth, 
Than  in  thy  own  illustrious  name  and  rank ;  — 
We  love  ye  all,  and  in  the  Bondman's  name, 
Invoke  Heaven's  blessings  on  your  noble  lives. 

Woodlee,  New  Bedford,  Massachusetts. 


ANTI-SLAVERY    AT    THE    WEST.  195 


Hecollectums  of  ^tnti-SlaDnrg  at  % 


BY     CAROLINE     M.     KIRKLAND. 

ONE  of  the  most  striking  features  of  a 
residence  in  Detroit  —  to  me  at  least  —  is  the 
frequent  arrival  of  escaped  slaves,  on  their 
way  to  Queen  Victoria's  country.  Scarce  a 
week  passes  that  parties  of  worn  wayfarers  — 
the  lashes  sometimes  yet  unhealed  on  their 
poor  shoulders  —  do  not  present  themselves 
to  the  friends  of  freedom,  imploring  aid  to 
cross  the  river  into  Canada.  Sometimes  one 
solitary  wretch  —  the  wreck  of  a  strong  man, 
perhaps  —  with  his  iron  joints  and  their  wiry 
sinews  almost  laid  bare  by  famine,  his  heart 
sunken  to  infant  weakness,  and  unbidden 
tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  as  he  tells  his 
hapless  tale,  asks  aid,  which  a  few  days  more 
of  suffering  would  have  rendered  unavailing. 


196  RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

"  Are  you  a  single  man  ? "  said  a  dear  friend 
of  ours  once  to  just  such  an  one. 

"  Wife  and  seven  children,  massa,"  was  the 
reply;  and  with  it  such  a  burst  of  grief  as 
unnerved  all  present. 

Harpies,  such  as  money  will  always  buy, 
haunt  the  ferry  and  the  avenues  leading  to  it, 
so  that  the  steamer,  which  plies  continually 
between  Detroit  and  Sandwich,  is  of  no  service 
to  the  fugitive.  In  canoes,  at  dead  of  night, 
"  in  silence  and  in  fear,"  do  the  descendants  of 
those  who  left  all  for  Freedom,  submit  to 
smuggle  into  the  dominions  of  the  very  power 
against  whose  tyranny  their  ancestors  revolted, 
native-born  Americans,  driven  into  exile  by 
the  injury  and  oppression  of  their  own  country- 
men. 

And  when  the  canoe  reaches  British  ground, 
before  dry  footing  can  be  obtained,  what  sights 
have  the  noble  beings,  who  peril  so  much  for 
the  unfortunate,  witnessed  among  these  poor 


ANTI-SLAVERY    AT    THE    WEST.  197 

souls,  who  are  thought  by  some  to  Jiave  no 
souls !  What  plunging  into  the  shallow  water, 
and  wading  to  the  shore  so  longed  and  prayed 
for !  What  prostrations  upon  the  earth,  what 
shouts  and  tears  of  joy,  what  madness  of  ex- 
ultation, that  the  goal  is  at  last  reached! 
What  kissing  of  the  friendly  soil  —  British 
soil!  Alas!  Alas! 

Not  always  alone,  or  accompanied  only  by 
fellow-sufferers,  do  these  poor  dumb  witnesses 
of  fraternal  cruelty  seek  the  Canadian  shore. 
An  incident,  which  will  forever  be  fresh  in  our 
memory,  occurred  while  we  were  residents  of 
the  West.  A  family  of  slaves,  wearing  not 
the  crushed  aspect  of  the  fugitives  we  were 
accustomed  to  see,  made  their  appearance  at 
Detroit,  decently  clad,  and  accompanied  by 
their  mistress  and  owner.  She,  a  woman  of 
little  education  and  plain  manners,  had  not 
only  willed  to  emancipate  them,  but,  in  order 

to  assure  the  freedom  which  she  knew  would 

17* 


198  RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

be  so  insecure  in  a  slave  state,  had  left  all, 
and  travelled  with  them,  through  incredible 
difficulties  and  embarassments,  even  to  the 
verge  of  that  country  which  alone,  of  all  the 
earth,  is  capable  of  the  desperate  attempt  to 
make  Freedom  and  Slavery  walk  hand  in 
hand.  She  was  unacquainted  with  even  so 
much  geography  as  would  have  taught  her  the 
States  through  which  she  must  pass  to  reach 
Michigan ;  and  her  inquiries  on  the  road  had 
been  answered  by  information  purposely  cal- 
culated to  mislead  and  perplex  her.  She  had 
been  for  years  laboring  under  a  conviction  that 
she  had  no  right  to  those  slave-people,  though 
she  had  not  so  much  as  heard  that  there  was 
a  body  of  persons  calling  themselves  Abolition- 
ists, who  interested  themselves  in  favor  of 
those  in  bondage.  Not  one  single  human 
being  among  her  neighbors  and  acquaintance 
who  did  not  condemn  her  course ;  not  one  to 
whom  she  could  look  for  advice  or  sympathy. 


ANTI-SLAVERY    AT    THE    WEST.  199 

Yet  this  uncultivated  but  lofty  soul  was  un- 
daunted, and  quietly  followed  up  its  noble 
purpose,  until  the  whole  number  of  grateful 
freed-men  were  safely  landed  upon  the  shores 
of  Canada. 

Then  did  their  happy  friend,  no  longer  bur- 
thenecl  with  the  title  of  mistress,  take  leave  of 
her  charge,  amid  the  unutterable  blessings  of 
their  hearts,  and  return  to  the  American  side 
to  sleep  —  and,  as  she  said,  in  peace,  for  the 
first  time  for  years ;  so  dreadful  had  been  her 
sense  of  wrong,  and  so  great  her  fear  that 
death  might  interpose  before  her  plans  and 
their  great  result  could  be  consummated. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  warmest  friends  of 
the  slave,  in  the  State  of  Michigan,  was  Dr. 
Arthur  L.  Porter,  who  departed  this  life  in  the 
height  of  his  usefulness  only  a  few  months 
since.  For  years  he  labored  almost  single 
handed,  enduring  opposition,  contempt,  slan- 
der, loss  of  worldly  goods,  —  all  that  the 


200  RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

worldly  spirit  most  fears  and  hates,  —  deter- 
mined to  awaken  the  generous  heart  of  the 
West  to  the  true  view  of  the  slave  question 
He  was  well  known  in  New  England  as  a 
person  of  high  scientific  attainments,  and  he 
entered  upon  the  practice  of  medicine  at  De- 
troit under  such  auspices  as  would  have 
insured  success.  But  the  avowal  of  decided 
anti-slavery  sentiments  was  at  that  time 
equivalent  to  renunciation  almost  of  daily 
bread,  when  that  bread  was  to  be  earned 
among  those  who  were  called  the  "higher 
classes"  at  the  West.  Day  after  day  saw 
every  engine  which  the  world  knows  so  well 
how  to  turn  against  those  who  unflinchingly 
follow  out  the  dictates  of  conscience,  brought 
to  bear  against  Dr.  Porter.  His  character  was 
maligned,  his  medical  practice  traduced,  and 
every  death  that  occurred  among  his  patients 
was  made  the  instrument  of  a  fresh  attack  on 
his  reputation  and  his  means  of  living. 


ANTI-SLAVERY    AT    THE    WEST.  201 

But  without  one  moment's  wavering  —  with 
an  eye  single,  as  it  would  seem,  to  the  one 
holy  purpose  to  which  he  had  devoted  his 
life,  did  he  pursue  his  course,  until,  before  his 
death,  the  goodly  leaven  had  spread  throughout 
the  mind  of  the  State;  and  nowhere  at  the 
North  has  a  wanner  and  more  decided  anti- 
slavery  sentiment  sprung  up  than  in  Michigan. 
Nowhere  are  conventions  more  eagerly  attend- 
ed, funds  more  liberally  contributed,  and 
talent  and  effort  more  freely  offered  in  the 
service  of  Freedom  than  in  that  far  away 
State;  and  of  all  this,  we  who  watched  the 
whole  progress  of  the  change,  consider  Dr.  Por- 
ter to  have  been,  under  the  blessing  of  Heaven, 
the  author  and  most  earnest  promoter. 

His  fellow-citizens,  to  their  honor  be  it 
spoken,  learned  to  know  his  worth.  When  he 
was  suddenly  stricken  from  the  ranks  of 
Christ's  own  faithful  soldiery,  the  tears  of  all 
who  had  lived  within  his  influence  attested 


202  RECOLLECTIONS    OF 

how  lovely  is  goodness,  and  how  ill  the  world 
can  spare  its  light ;  and  the  whole  city  felt  the 
blow  with  a  sensibility  alike  honorable  to  the 
deceased  and  to  itself.  No  purer  spirit  ever 
toiled  and  prayed  for  its  welfare;  and  none 
has  been  more  sincerely  regretted. 

When  one  remonstrated  with  Dr.  Porter 
upon  the  loss  and  hatred  he  was  incurring  in 
the  anti-slavery  cause,  he  replied,  "  Loss !  If 
by  laying  down  my  life  I  could  advance  the 
emancipation  of  our  slaves  but  a  single  day,  I 
could  do  it  cheerfully ! "  And  without  doubt 
he  spoke  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness. 
May  God  supply  so  great  a  loss  by  sending 
many  such  laborers  into  his  vineyard !  Noble 
souls  there  are  yet  on  the  same  ground,  con- 
tending still  with  ignorance  and  prejudice 
enough ;  but  the  way  is  comparatively  smooth 
before  them ;  and  it  may  reasonably  be  hoped 
that  before  long  it  will  be  as  impossible  for  the 


ANTI-SLAVERY   AT   THE    WEST.  203 

slave-catcher  to  exercise  his  blood-guilty  trade 
in  the  state  of  Michigan,  as  it  now  is  within 
the  time-honored  shadow  of  Faneuil  Hall. 

New  York. 


204  PHOBBE    MALLORY. 


iltallon) ;  %  last  of  % 


BY    EDMUND 

" But  when  returned  the  youth?    The  youth  no  more 
Returned  exulting  to  his  native  shore ; 
But  forty  years  were  past,  and  then  there  came 
A  worn-out  man,  with  withered  limbs  and  lame ; 
His  mind  oppressed  with  woes,  and  bent  with  age  his  frame." 

CEABBE. 


I  WAS  once  a  great  pedestrian;  and  have 
performed  feats  in  my  time,  which,  should 
entitle  me  to  a  respectable  standing,  if  not  an 
exalted  rank,  in  the  sporting  world.  I  used  to 
think  little  of  forty  miles  a  day;  and  have 
"  made  "  my  six  miles  within  the  hour.  But 
all  that  is  over. 

"  It  is  not  now  as  it  hath  been  of  yore  !  " 

"Walking,  for  its  own  sake,  like  virtue  on  the 
same  terms,  is  but  too  apt  to  be  an  enthusiasm 
of  youth.  I  have  not,  indeed,  entirely  sub- 
sided into  the  opinion  which  a  gentleman, 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    SLAVES.  20-5 

recently  deceased,  who  successively  distin- 
guished himself  in  the  gay  world,  at  the  bar 
and  in  the  pulpit,  once  pronounced  ex  catfiedra, 
in  my  hearing,  that  "legs  are  given  to  man 
only  to  enable  him  to  hold  on  to  a  horse : :' 
but  still  a  sober  ten  miles  satisfies  me  now.  It 
will  be  well  for  me  if  this  be  the  only  good 
habit  of  my  youth  from  which  I  have  fallen 
away. 

During  my  days  of  pedestrious  grace  I 
resided  in  Boston,  and  my  walks  made  me 
tolerably  familiar  with  the  beautiful  country 
that  environs  it  for  ten  miles  on  every  side : 
itself  being  ever  the  crowning  charm  of  the 
landscape.  It  is  a  great  advantage  Boston 
possesses  over  most  other  cities  that  one  can 
almost  immediately  exchange  the  bustle  of  the 
streets  for  some  of  the  most  lovely  and  rural 
scenes  in  the  world.  An  hour's  drive,  or  an 
afternoon's  walk,  transports  you,  as  it  were, 
into  the  heart  of  the  country.  The  winding 
IS 


206  PHCEBE  MALLORY; 

country  roads,  and  green  lanes,  hedged  with 
barberry  bushes,  might  beguile  you  to  believe 
that  you  were  a  hundred  miles  from  a  great 
city,  were  you  not  continually  tempted  to  turn 
and  see  how  gracefully,  at  airy  distance,  she 
seems  to  sit  upon  her  three  hills  and  lord  it 
over  the  prospect. 

One  fine  autumn  afternoon,  about  ten  years 
ago,  when  I  had  been 

"  Wasting  in  wood-paths  the  luxurious  day," 

I  found  myself  on  the  summit  of  one  of  a 
chain  of  hills,  looking  towards  the  city.  And 
what  a  prospect  lay  before  me !  On  my  right 
were  hills  covered  with  woods  clothed  in  the 
gorgeous  hues  of  autumn,  looking  like  troops 
of  "  shining  ones  "  just  alighted  on  some  mis- 
sion of  mercy ;  in  the  middle  distance,  tufted 
groves,  village  spires,  farm-houses,  meadows 
dotted  with  cattle,  and  a  brimming  river  — 
sparkling  in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  sun ;  in 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.       207 

the  distance  the  city,  relieved  against  the 
Blue  Hills ;  and  on  the  left  the  noblest  burst 
of  ocean !  —  Nahant  breaking  the  expanse, 
with  Egg  Rock  beyond,  and  then  stretching 
leagues  and  leagues  away,  till  it  had  put  a 
girdle  round  the  earth !  It  was  a  noble  pros- 
pect! 

After  I  had  feasted  ray  eyes  and  heart  on 
these  glorious  apparitions,  I  was  recalled  to  a 
sense  of  the  things  of  earth  by  the  reflection 
which  was  forced  upon  me,  that  I  had  had  no 
dinner.  I  accordingly  marked  from  my  hill- 
top, where  all  the  country  lay  mapped  out  at 
my  feet,  the  course  I  would  pursue  on  my 
return  home.  Descending  the  precipitous  face 
of  the  hill,  I  plunged  into 

"  an  alley  green, 
With  many  a  bosky  bourne  from  side  to  side," 

which  led  me,  though  somewhat  deviously,  in 
the  direction  of  the  city.  After  I  had  followed 


208  PHCEBE  MALLOEY; 

its  windings  for  some  miles  I  began  to  wax 
thirsty,  and,  to  say  sooth,  a  little  weary  to  boot. 
So  I  looked  about  me,  as  I  walked,  for  some 
hospitable  door  at  which,  though  no  saint,  I 
might  ask  for  a  cup  of  cold  water. 

I  pique  myself  on  my  skill  in  the  physiog- 
nomy of  houses,  and  it  is  not  at  every  door, 
any  more  than  of  every  man,  that  I  would  ask  a 
favor.  Accordingly  I  passed  by  several  houses 
of  some  pretensions,  but  which  had  to  my 
eye  an  ill-favored  and  ill-conditioned  express- 
ion, and  passed  onward  till  I  came  to  one  that 
I  thought  might  answer  my  purpose.  It  had 
not  much  to  recommend  it  in  its  exterior.  It 
was  a  cottage  of  the  very  humblest  descrip- 
tion, the  walls  of  bare  boards,  blackened  with 
age ;  but  yet  there  was  something  about  it  that 
made  my  heart  warm  towards  it.  It  stood  a 
little  withdrawn  from  the  road  and  the  grass 
grew  green  up  to  the  broad  flag-stone,  half 
sunk  into  the  earth,  which  served  for  its  door- 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.       209 

stone.  There  was  no  litter  or  dirt  about  the 
door,  the  windows  were  all  whole,  and  there 
was  a  general  air  of  neatness  about  it  which 
showed  that  the  poverty  of  the  inhabitant  was 
at  least  not  sordid. 

It  had  a  promising  look  and  I  knocked  at  the 
door.  It  was  opened,  after  a  short  interval,  by 
an  "old  old"  woman,  as  black  as  jet,  slightly 
bent  by  age  and  leaning  upon  a  staff.  Though 
not  expecting  to  see  a  person  of  color,  I  was 
pleased  to  find,  that,  as  far  as  I  could  judge 
from  her  appearance,  I  had  not  been  deceived 
by  the  lineaments  of  her  habitation.  Her 
dress  was  of  the  coarsest  materials,  but  the 
snowy  whiteness  of  her  cap  and  handkerchief 
and  the  scrupulous  cleanliness  of  her  checked 
gown  proved  the  presence  of  that  virtue  which 
is  said,  on  high  authority,  to  be  akin  to  godli- 
ness. She  received  me  with  the  kindliness 
and  good  nature  which  mark  her  race,  and, 
upon  making  my  necessities  known,  she  cor- 
18* 


210  PHCEBE  MALLORY; 

dially  invited  me  to  walk  in.  This  I  did, 
nothing  loth,  and  while  my  hostess  was  select- 
ing the  best  of  her  three  mugs  for  my  service, 
I  seated  myself,  at  her  pressing  instance,  in 
one  of  her  two  flag-bottomed  chairs,  and  took 
a  survey  of  the  premises. 

They  were  rough  and  bare  enough,  God 
knows ;  but  still  were  not  without  that  air  of 
comfort  which  thorough  neatness  and  good 
order  can  give  to  the  humblest  dwelling.  Her 
house  could  boast  of  but  one  apartment;  but 
that  was  sufficient  for  her  purposes.  A  bed, 
two  chairs,  an  invalided  table,  and  a  pine 
chest  made  up  the  sum  of  her  furniture.  The 
walls  could  boast  of  no  decoration  except  a 
print,  over  the  head  of  the  bed,  of  the  capture 
of  Andre,  in  which  the  cow-boy  militiamen 
were  looking  most  truculently  virtuous  as 
Andre  tempted  their  Roman  firmness  with  a 
watch  of  the  size  of  a  small  warming-pan. 
The  floor  was  well  scrubbed  and  sanded,  and 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.       211 

some  peat  embers  smouldered  upon  the  hearth. 
After  I  had  slaked  my  thirst  with  some  deli- 
cious water,  of  which  she  was  justly  proud, 
—  all  cold  and  sparkling  from  the  open  well, 
ministered  unto  by  the  picturesque  puritanic 
well-pole,  —  she  resumed  her  chair  and  her 
knitting;  and,  as  I  rested  myself,  I  entered 
into  conversation  with  her. 

She  seemed  pleased  with  the  interest  I  felt 
in  her  affairs,  and  simply  and  frankly  told  me 
all  she  had  to  tell  about  herself  and  her  way  of 
life.  She  had  lived  on  that  spot  for  many 
years,  and  had  mainly  depended  upon  her  skill 
as  a  laundress  for  her  subsistence.  As  she  had 
grown  old,  however,  and  the  infirmities  of  age 
began  to  press  heavily  upon  her,  she  confined 
herself  to  the  nicer  branches  of  her  profession ; 
for  the  exercise  of  which  the  ladies  of  the 
neighborhood  supplied  her  with  ample  mate- 
rials. Whatever  deficiency  there  might  be  in 
her  means  of  comfort,  after  she  had  done  her 


212  PH(EBE  MALLORY; 

best  to  provide  them,  was  cheerfully  made  up 
to  her  by  the  kindness  of  her  neighbors.  For, 
to  do  them  justice,  neglect  of  the  poor,  black 
or  white,  at  their  own  doors,  is  not  one  of  the 
vices  of  the  people  of  New  England.  She 
seemed  to  be  very  well  satisfied  with  her 
share  of  the  good  tilings  of  this  life,  and  evinc- 
ed a  degree  of  unaffected  contentment  which 
is  not  always  seen  to  accompany  a  much 
higher  degree  of  prosperity.  I  was  greatly 
interested  in  her  character  and  history,  and 
never  walked  in  that  direction  again  without 
calling  to  see  her.  In  the  course  of  my  ac- 
quaintance with  her,  I  learned,  at  different 
times,  the  simple  incidents  of  her  story,  which 
I  am  about  to  relate.  They  seemed  to  me, 
when  I  heard  them,  to  be  worth  the  telling ; 
but  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  anybody  else 
will  be  of  the  same  opinion.  Such  as  they  are, 
however,  you  have  them  here. 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.       213 

Phcebe  was  born  somewhere  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  last  century,  in  the  family  of  the 
Honorable  James  Mallory,  for  many  years  one 
of  His  Majesty's  Council  for  the  Province  of 
Massachusetts  Bay.  He  used  to  live  in  that 
fine  old  house  with  the  Corinthian  pilasters,  and 
the  magnificent  lime  trees  in  the  court-yard, 
which  stood  on  your  left  hand  as  you  went 
down  King  Street  towards  Long  Wharf.  It 
vanished  years  ago,  and  gave  place  to  one  of 
the  granite  temples  of  Mammon  which  have 
long  since  thrust  from  their  neighborhood  all 
human  habitation.  There  was  Phosbe  born. 
Her  father  and  mother  were  both  of  them 
native  Africans,  who  had  lived  out  all  their  life 
of  servitude  under  the  roof  of  Mr.  Mallory. 
They  were  fortunate  in  falling  into  such  good 
hands.  The  few  New  England  slaves  were 
mostly  owned  by  the  wealthy  families  and 
were  chiefly  employed  as  house-servants,  and 
their  treatment  was  at  least  as  good  as  that  of 


214  PHCEBE  MALLOKY; 

the  same  class  in  any  country.  But,  Phoebe 
said,  nothing  could  prevent  her  father  from 
remembering  the  day,  when,  as  he  was  hunt- 
ing the  hippopotamus  in  the  sacred  river  that 
flowed  by  his  hut,  just  as  he  leaped  from  his 
iron-wood  canoe  to  draw  the  monster  ashore 
by  the  line  fastened  to  his  spear,  a  party, 
of  a  hostile  tribe,  rushed  from  among  the 
reeds  and  hurried  him  to  the  sea-coast,  fifty 
miles  away,  and  there  sold  him  to  a  Bristol 
trader.  To  be  sure  he  had  obtained  civiliza- 
tion and  Christianity  by  his  involuntary  emi- 
gration ;  but  as  the  one  appeared  to  his  half- 
savage  mind  to  consist  in  wearing  clothes  and 
cleaning  another  man's  shoes,  and  the  other 
in  sleeping  011  his  knees  through  family  prayers, 
and  in  being  obliged  to  listen,  from  the  gallery 
of  the  Old  South  Church,  for  several  hours 
every  Sunday,  to  sermons  which  he  could 
never  have  comprehended,  delivered  in  a 
tongue  he  very  imperfectly  understood,  he 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.       215 

must  not  be  blamed  as  ungrateful  if  he 
thought  them  but  inadequate  compensations 
for  the  exchange  he  had  made  of  the  sunny 
skies  and  golden  sands  of  Africa  for  the 
leaden  firmament  and  rocky  coast  of  New 
England. 

Phcebe  was  more  fortunate  than  her  parents 
in  being  "  native,  and  to  the  manner  born ;  " 
so  that  her  lot  was  much  more  tolerable  than 
theirs.  She  was  kindly  treated,  and  taught 
to  read  and  write.  She  felt  all  the  strong 
attachment  of  the  African  race  to  the  house  in 
which  she  was  bora  and  to  the  family  which 
had  brought  her  up.  To  the  end  of  her  days 
she  believed  that  there  was  never  a  house 
that  equalled  in  magnificence  that  of  Mr. 
Mallory  in  King  Street.  There  was  never 
any  tiling  half  so  graceful  and  dignified  as  the 
manners  of  Mr.  Mallory  himself,  or  half  so 
beautiful  and  accomplished  as  the  daughters, 
or  so  handsome  and  good-natured  as  the  sons, 


216  PHCEBE    MALLORY  ; 

of   his    house.      Many    were    the    old-world 
stories  she  told  me  of  the  loves  and  the  feuds 
of  that  generation,  —  of  their  joys   and  their 
griefs,   of  their  festivities  and  their  funerals. 
A  petted   slave,  brought  up  from  infancy  in 
one  of  the  foremost  families  of  a  small  com- 
munity, such  as  Boston  was  then,  she  became 
a  perfect  incarnation  of  all  the   gossip   and 
scandal  of  that  little  world.     And  some  very 
choice  bits   of  both  I  extracted  from   her,   I 
assure  you.     She,    certainly,   had  no   artistic 
skill  in  her  narrations,  and  yet  there  was  a  life 
in  the  very  simplicity  with  which  she  related 
facts,    which    painted    them    vividly    to    the 
mind's  eye;    and,  I  think,  I  have  a  clearer 
notion  of  the  way  in  which  people  lived  in 
Boston  eighty  years   since,   from  them,  than 
from  more  generally  recognised  authorities. 

Her  admiration,  however,  was  not  entirely 
monopolised  by  the  higher  powers  of  the 
family.  There  was  a  certain  Ambrose,  who 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.         217 

had  also  been  born  in  the  house  a  few  years 
before  Phoebe,  and  had  been  brought  up  along 
with  her,  who  claimed  his  share.  They  had 
played  together  as  children  and  worked 
together  when  they  grew  older,  and  it  will  not 
surprise  the  experienced  reader  to  hear  that 
they  fell  in  love  with  each  other  as  soon  as 
they  were  old  enough  to  take  the  infection. 
Ambrose  was  a  fine,  well  made,  athletic  young 
fellow,  shrewd  and  capable,  and  of  the  most 
imperturbable  good  humor.  His  skill  in  music 
was  such  that  he  was  often  summoned  to  the 
parlor,  with  his  violin,  to  excite  the  dance, 
when  his  young  masters  and  mistresses  had 
their  friends  with  them.  Both  Ambrose  and 
Phoebe  were  great  favorites  with  the  whole 
family,  old  and  young,  bond  and  free,  and 
their  loves  were  looked  upon  by  all  with 
complacent  eyes.  They  formed  a  little  under- 
plot in  the  domestic  drama,  which  was  not 

unamusing    or    uninteresting    to    the    actors, 
19 


218  PHOEBE  MALLOKY; 

or  actresses,  in  similar  scenes,  above  stairs. 
Their  true  love  flowed  smoothly  on,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  no  obstacles  could  be  interposed 
to  disturb  its  course.  It  was  a  conceded  thing, 
that  at  some  convenient  season  Ambrose  and 
Phoebe  were  to  be  married. 

While  the  affairs  of  the  humble  lovers  were 
in  this  prosperous  train,  great  events  were  at 
the  door.  The  signs  which  prognosticate  a 
coming  storm  were  frequent  and  menacing. 
Voices  were  heard  in  the  air  telling  of  disaster 
and  woe  to  come.  Portents  were  seen  in  the 
political  firmament, 

"  with  fear  of  change, 
Perplexing  monarchs." 

It  was  obvious  to  all  discerning  persons,  who 
Were  willing  to  see,  that  great  changes  were 
at  hand.  Mr.  Mallory  was  a  tory,  as  might  be 
expected  from  his  official  station  and  position 
in  society.  Like  many  others  of  his  way  of 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.        219 

thinking,  he  exaggerated  the  power  of  the 
British  king  to  suppress  disaffection,  and 
undervalued  the  powers  of  resistance  of  the 
Colonists.  Though  he  had  never  permitted 
himself  to  doubt  that  the  fever-fit  of  the 
province  would  soon  pass  away,  still  his 
position  was  sufficiently  disagreeable  while 
it  lasted.  He  had  made  himself  obnoxious 
to  the  popular  party,  and  his  situation  was 
at  times  worse  than  disagreeable, — it  was 
absolutely  unsafe.  Phoebe  described  to  me 
the  night  when  the  mob,  flushed  by  the 
impunity  which  had  attended  their  previous 
excesses,  came  trooping  down  King  Street  to 
execute  summary  justice  on  the  tory  Mallory. 
Their  approach  was  so  sudden  that  the  family 
had  barely  time  to  escape,  as  they  were, 
through  the  garden,  leaving  the  candles 
burning,  and  the  work-boxes  and  books  open 
on  the  table,  as  they  fled. 


220  PH(EBE    MALLORY  J 

Mr.  Mallory's  house  would  probably  have 
shared  the  fate  of  Governor  Hutchinson's, 
had  it  not  been  for  a  singular  and  unexpected 
diversion.  When  the  mob  were  gathering  in 
the  street  in  front  of  the  house,  and  preparing 
for  the  assault,  the  hall  door  opened  suddenly, 
and  Ambrose,  like  a  new  Orpheus,  issued 
from  it  with  his  violin  in  his  hand.  He 
immediately  struck  up  a  lively  air,  and  the 
effect  was  magical.  The  many-headed  mon- 
ster was  in  a  better  humor  than  usual  that 
night.  Whether  it  was  that  the  edge  of  its 
appetite  was  in  some  degree  taken  off  by  the 
sop  it  had  already  had,  or  whether  it  was  that 
the  patriotic  punch  (which  has  never  yet  had 
its  due  as  one  of  the  main  promoters  of  the 
Revolution)  had  not  yet  more  than  half  done 
its  work,  still  the  mood  of  the  mob  was 
changed  at  once  from  mischief  to  fun.  This 
unexpected  apparition  moved  their  mirth,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.        221 

Ambrose,  taking  advantage  of  their  humor, 
performed  such  antic  tricks  in  the  moonlight 
as  threw  them  into  inextinguishable  fits  of 
laughter.  With  all  the  caprice  of  a  mob  they 
soon  began  to  dance,  themselves,  to  his  music, 
and  not  all  the  influence  of  their  leaders  could 
bring  them  up  again  to  the  point  of  mischief: 

"So  Orpheus  fiddled  and  so  danced  the  brutes  !  " 

This  danger  over,  the  arrival  of  the  British 
regiments  prevented  any  apprehension  of  its 
renewal.  But  the  situation  of  the  Mallories 
was  gloomy  and  uncomfortable '  enough.  The 
gaieties,  which  the  arrival  of  the  forces  pro- 
duced, in  the  loyal  circles,  were  no  compen- 
sation for  the  breaking  up  of  old  friendships, 
and  for  the  doubt  and  uncertainty  that  hung 
over  their  future.  At  last  the  provincial  re- 
sistance began  to  assume  a  more  threatening 
form.  The  siege  clasped  the  town  around 

with  its  iron  arms.     The  beautiful  hills  which 
19* 


222  PHCEBE    MALLORY  J 

encompass  the  town  were  now  changed  into 
mimic  volcanoes,  belching  forth  fire  and 
smoke  and  death  against  it.  All  who  could, 
and  dared,  fled  from  its  borders.  Mr.  Mallory's 
political  offences  were  too  flagrant  to  allow 
him  any  choice.  He  was  obliged  to  abide  by 
the  result  of  the  conflict  where  he  was.  To 
be  sure  neither  he  nor  his  children  would  ever 
admit,  even  to  themselves,  the  probability 
of  the  rebels  being  ultimately  successful ;  but 
then  there  could  not  but  be  painful  misgivings 
as  to  what  might  befal  before  the  insurrection 
was  finally  quelled.  It  was  a  dismal  winter, 
indeed,  as  Phosbe  told  its  private  history. 
Not  all  the  balls  and  assemblies  and  private 
theatricals  that  were  devised  to  while  away 
the  weary  hours,  could  dispel  the  sense  of 
pain  and  apprehension  which  their  situation 
excited  in  the  breasts  of  the  loyalists. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  forebodings  of 
their    prophetic  hearts    were   fulfilled.      The 


THE    LAST    OF    THE    SLAVES.  223 

dreary  winter  wore  away  and  the  dreary 
spring  began.  The  intentions  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief  were  kept  strictly  secret ;  but 
there  were  plenty  of  surmises  abroad  as  to 
what  they  were.  But  that  Boston,  open  as  it 
was  to  the  sea,  of  which  England  was  the 
mistress,  would  be  occupied  by  the  British 
forces  until  the  rebellion  was  suppressed,  was 
a  thing  that  had  settled  down  into  a  recog- 
nised certainty.  It  could  not  enter  into  a 
loyal  heart  to  conceive  that  the  royal  troops 
could  be  dislodged  from  the  capital  of  New 
England  by  the  rabble-rout  that  surrounded 
them.  But  at  last  the  fatal  news  fell  upon 
their  ears  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  that  the  town 
was  to  be  evacuated  and  abandoned  to  the 
besiegers  !  What  distress  and  despair  of  those 
who  had  placed  themselves  and  all  they  had 
under  the  protection  of  the  British  sceptre,  and 
who  found  it  powerless  in  their  utmost  need ! 
All  remonstrance  on  their  part  was  in  vain. 


224  PH(EBE    MALLORY  ; 

General  Howe  was  inflexible,  for  he  knew 
that  his  post  was  no  longer  tenable;  but  he 
assured  the  distressed  loyalists  of  all  possible 
assistance  in  removing  their  persons  and  ef- 
fects beyond  the  reach  of  the  exasperated 
rebels. 

Phoebe  described  to  me  with  life-like  effect, 
for  it  was  what  she  had  the  most  to  do  with, 
the  confusion  of  the  few  days  that  elapsed 
between  the  announcement  of  the  intended 
evacuation  and  the  embarkation.  The  grief  of 
the  Mallories  at  leaving  the  home  of  their 
childhood,  perhaps  forever,  and  the  uncertainty 
which  hung  over  their  future  fate,  was  dis- 
turbed by  the  necessity  of  deciding  which  of 
their  effects  they  should  take  with  them.  A 
limited  amount  of  freight  was  all  that  could  be 
possibly  assigned  to  each  refugee,  and  it  was 
hard  to  decide  among  all  the  objects  which 
habit  had  rendered  necessary  or  association 
dear,  which  should  be  chosen  and  which 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.         225 

abandoned.  All  was  hurry  and  bustle  and 
distress.  They  were  obliged  to  select  such 
articles  as  contained  the  most  value  in  the 
compactest  form,  and  to  leave  the  rest  behind. 
Their  clothes,  plate,  jewels  and  such  other 
valuables  as  they  could  compress  into  the 
smallest  possible  space  were  all  that  they  could 
take  with  them.  But  all  the  old  companion 
furniture,  speaking  to  them  of  ancestry  and 
of  happier  days,  the  family  pictures,  the  trifles 
which  affection  magnified  into  things  of  mo- 
ment, because  they  were  seen  through  the 
atmosphere  of  love  and  friendship  which  sur- 
rounded them,  all,  all  had  to  be  left  behind 
them. 

It  was  a  dreadful  night,  that  of  the  17th  of 
March  1776,  the  last  that  they  were  to  spend 
in  the  home  of  their  fathers.  Early  the  next 
morning  they  were  to  embark  on  board  the 
transports,  to  go  they  knew  not  whither.  The 
young  ladies,  deprived  of  their  usual  employ- 


226  PHOEBE  MALLORY; 

ments,  and  their  recent  mournful  occupation 
being  over,  as  the  trunks  and  packing-cases 
were  already  on  board,  wandered  about  the 
house,  from  room  to  room,  like  ghosts  haunt- 
ing scenes  once  loved,  reluctant  to  look  their 
last  upon  those  beloved  walls.  The  gentle- 
men of  the  family  were  busy  in  making  what 
arrangements  they  could  to  secure  the  wrecks 
of  their  property.  It  was  long  past  midnight 
before  they  retired  to  rest,  if  rest  they  could, 
for  the  last  time  under  that  old-accustomed 
roof.  They  had  not  been  long  retired,  how- 
ever, when  they  were  aroused  again  by  a 
clamorous  knocking  at  the  door,  and  the  intel- 
ligence that  they  must  repair  at  once  on  board 
ship,  if  they  would  not  be  left  behind.  The 
rebels  had  taken  up  a  position  on  Nook's  Hill, 
which  rendered  it  necessary  to  evacuate  the 
town  at  an  earlier  hour  than  the  one  first 
appointed.  The  confusion  may  be  imagined. 
The  carriage  was  at  length  at  the  door,  and 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.        221 

performed  its  last  service,  in  conveying  the 
family  to  the  wharf,  before  it  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  patriotic  gentleman  who  had 
purchased  it  at  a  fourth  of  its  value.  They 
found,  with  some  difficulty,  the  transport 
assigned  to  them,  and,  embarking,  awaited 
the  signal  of  departure. 

While  they  were  thus  expecting  their  sail- 
ing orders,  one  of  the  young  ladies  discovered 
that,  in  her  hurry,  she  had  left  her  watch 
behind  her.  It  had  a  value  beyond  its  intrinsic 
worth,  as  having  belonged  to  her  mother.  Her 
distress  was  great,  and  the  question  arose 
whether  there  was  time  to  send  for  it.  The 
captain  of  the  transport  gave  it  as  his  opinion 
that  there  would  be  ample  time.  Then,  who 
was  to  be  the  messenger?  Ambrose  could 
not  be  spared  from  some  essential  service  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  luggage;  so  Phrebe 
alone  remained  to  perform  the  errand.  She 
was  accordingly  despatched  with  strict  injunc- 


228  PHCEBE  MALLORY; 

tions  to  make  a  speedy  return.  It  was  a 
raw  blustering  March  morning,  and  as  Phoebe 
threaded  the  narrow  streets  the  light  snow 
was  blown  in  fitful  gusts  in  her  face.  She 
made  a  somewhat  wide  circuit  to  avoid  the 
principal  streets,  which  were  now  full  of  sol- 
diers, the  inhabitants  being  under  orders  to 
keep  within  doors  until  a  certain  hour.  She 
had  some  difficulty,  too,  in  procuring  the 
house-key  from  the  neighbor  who  had  charge 
of  it ;  and  when  at  last  she  obtained  entrance, 
it  was  still  dark  and  she  had  to  strike  a  light 
in  order  to  commence  her  search.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  conspire  to  delay  her  return 
to  the  ship.  And  after  she  had  procured 
a  candle,  the  object  of  her  search  was  not  to 
be  found.  She  looked  for  it  in  every  place 
where  it  should  and  where  it  should  not  be, 
but  without  success.  This  consumed  many 
precious  moments.  At  last  she  abandoned  the 
matter  in  despair,  thinking  that  her  young 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.        229 

mistress  must  have  the  watch  about  her,  after 
all,  or  else  it  had  been  dropped  on  the  way 
to  the  ship.  After  securing  the  house  again, 
she  made  what  haste  she  could  to  the  wharf. 
But  what  was  her  amazement  and  despair  at 
seeing  no  sign  remaining  of  the  good  ship  on 
board  of  which  all  her  treasures  were  em- 
barked ! 

She  could  not  at  first  believe  her  eyes,  and 
she  stood  for  some  time  in  mute  astonishment. 
But,  before  long,  her  mind  received  a  distinct 
impression  of  the  dreadful  truth,  and  she  made 
the  air  resound  with  her  shrieks  and  lamenta- 
tions. She  flew  distractedly  up  and  down  the 
wharf,  imploring  to  be  taken  on  board  some  of 
the  transports  destined  for  the  same  port,  but 
no  one  had  any  leisure  to  attend  to  her.  It 
was  in  the  height  of  the  hurry  of  the  embark- 
ation, and  ship  after  ship  was  dropping  down 
with  the  tide  and  making  what  haste  they 

might  to  Nantasket  roads.  Almost  immediately 
20 


230  PHCEBE    MALLORY  ; 

after  Phoebe  had  left  the  ship,  orders  came 
down  directing  her  to  get  underweigh  directly, 
and  she  was  already  out  of  sight.  She  remain- 
ed on  the  wharf  in  a  state  but  little  removed 
from  distraction,  renewing  her  entreaties  to  all 
she  met  for  assistance  in  regaining  her  master's 
party.  But  all  the  reply  she  received  was 
curses  and  orders  to  mind  her  own  business 
and  to  get  out  of  the  way.  Exhausted  at 
length  by  her  exertions,  and  finding  there  was 
no  hope  for  her,  she  returned,  in  agony  of 
mind,  to  the  deserted  house  in  King  Street. 
There,  in  solitude  and  despair,  flung  upon  her 
face  on  the  nearest  sofa,  she  lay  for  hours 
weeping  as  one  that  refused  to  be  comforted. 
The  merry  peals  of  the  bells,  and  the  distant 
sound  of  military  music,  might  have  told  her 
that  General  Washington  and  his  victorious 
army  were  making  their  triumphal  entry  into 
the  town ;  but  she  neither  heard  nor  heeded 
them.  Her  heart  and  her  eyes  were  following 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.        231 

the  stout  ship  which  was  bearing  away  from 
her,  probably  forever,  the  friends  of  her  child- 
hood and  the  lover  of  her  youth. 

In  this  state  she  continued  for  four-and- 
twenty  successive  hours.  Bat  after  the  first 
paroxysm  of  grief  and  despair  had  exhausted 
itself,  Phoebe  was  not  of  a  nature  to  abandon 
herself  to  fruitless  repinings.  It  was  fortunate 
for  her  that  it  was  necessary  to  take  some 
immediate  measures  for  her  own  support.  For 
the  poor  girl  was  now  in  a  singularly  unfortu- 
nate predicament.  She  absolutely  belonged 
to  nobody.  The  imperfect  legislation  of  those 
primitive  days  had  not  provided  for  such  a 
case  of  destitution.  Had  she  had  the  luck  to 
live  in  these  times,  in  the  Southern  States, 
such  an  anomaly  could  not  have  occurred. 
There,  the  abeyance  of  the  abandoned  proper- 
ty in  herself  would  have  been  terminated  in 
favor  of  the  fortunate  finder ;  or,  at  worst,  it 
would  have  resulted  to  the  State.  But  in 


232  PHOBBE  MALLORY; 

those  days,  before  political  economy,  she  was 
suffered  to  escheat  to  herself!  And  so  she 
had  nobody  to  take  care  of  her!  Thanks, 
however,  to  the  thorough  breeding  she  had 
received  in  Mr.  Mallory's  house,  she  was  able 
to  command  at  once  her  choice  of  the  best 
services  in  the  town;  and  she  was  soon  as 
comfortably  situated  as  she  could  be  under 
her  unhappy  circumstances. 

The  long  years  of  the  war,  of  course,  cut  off 
all  definite  intelligence  of  the  Mallories  and  of 
Ambrose.  And  the  longer  years  of  the  peace, 
which  followed  it,  brought  little  more  satisfac- 
tory information  about  them.  All  that  was 
certain  was,  that  Mr.  Mallory  had  been  pro- 
vided for  by  an  appointment  in  Antigua,  and  it 
was  taken  for  granted  that  he  had  proceeded 
thither  with  his  family.  The  humble  Ambrose 
of  course  had  no  share  in  these  imperfect 
advices,  and  Phoebe  was  left  to  guess  at  his 
fate  as  best  she  might.  The  Mallories  left  no 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.        233 

relatives  behind  them  in  the  province,  and  all 
interest  in  them  or  their  affairs  soon  died  away. 
There  was  but  one  humble  heart — Phoebe's — 
in  which  they  occupied  all  the  room  that  was 
not  before  engrossed  by  Ambrose,  their  slave. 

Meanwhile,  more  than  thirty  years  rolled 
away  since  the  emigration.  Phosbe  was  be- 
come a  prosperous  woman.  She  had  been 
for  some  years  retired  from  service  and  had 
invested  her  earnings  in  a  small  confectioner's 
shop,  which  was  well  frequented  by  those 
who  respected  the  excellence  of  her  character 
and  of  her  pastry.  She  had  never  married  — 
though  not  unsought  —  but  still  remained  con- 
stant to  the  memory  of  Ambrose ;  though  she 
had  for  many  years  abandoned  all  hope  of 
ever  seeing  or  hearing  of  him  again. 

One  aftemoon  as  she  was  sitting,  sewing, 
behind  her  counter,  a  man  entered  her  shop. 
His  dress  was  sordid  and  travel-stained,  and 

he   walked  with    difficulty,    supported    by   a 
20* 


234  PHCEBE  MALLORY; 

rough,  stick.  He  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
light,  so  that  Phoebe  could  not  see  his  features 
distinctly.  He  stood  and  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  in  her  face.  She  grew  alarmed  and 
asked  his  business.  In  the  act  of  replying  he 
shifted  his  position  so  that  the  setting  sun 
shone  full  upon  him.  She  started  from  her 
seat,  shrieked,  and  fell  senseless  upon  the 
floor. 

"  I  dropped,"  to  use  her  own  words,  "  as  if  I 
was  shot ! "  It  was  Ambrose  himself,  come  in 
the  flesh  to  claim  her  at  last.  Happily  joy  is 
not  a  mortal  disease,  or  Phoebe  might  not  have 
survived  to  tell  me  her  story.  Water  was  at 
hand,  and  she  soon  opened  her  eyes  upon  the 
face  of  him  whom  she  had  loved  so  long  and 
well.  It  was  changed  indeed.  Years  of 
slavery  had  not  passed  over  his  head  without 
leaving  furrows  on  the  brow  and  wrinkles  on 
the  cheek.  But  still  it  was  his  face,  and  that 
was  all  she  asked.  Time  and  ill  usage  had 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  SLAVES.        235 

grizzled  his  hair  and  bent  his  broad  shoulders ; 
but  to  her  eyes  he  was  still  young,  —  for  she 
saw  him  with  the  eyes  of  her  heart. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  whether  pleasure  or 
pain  predominated  in  that  first  interview.  But 
it  was  not  long  before  they  knew  that  they 
were  happy.  Phrebe  took  Ambrose  to  her 
house,  fed,  clothed  and  nursed  him ;  and  finally 
married  him.  And  though  their  union  was 
late,  and  did  not  continue  long,  it  was  as  happy 
a  marriage  as  ever  knit  two  hearts  in  one. 

The  story  of  Ambrose,  when  he  was  able  to 
tell  it,  was  simple  and  common  enough.  He 
had  followed  his  master  from  Halifax  to  Lon- 
don, and  from  London  to  Antigua.  There  Mr. 
Mallory  died.  The  young  ladies  married  and 
returned  to  England,  and  the  sons  took  to  bad 
courses  and  died  not  long  after  their  father. 
Ambrose  was  taken  in  execution  for  a  debt  of 
the  last  of  them,  and  sold  to  a  Jamaica  planter. 
In  Jamaica  he  suffered  for  many  years  the 


236  PHCEBE    MALLORY  J 

horrors  of  sugar-making,  aggravated  by  the 
contrast  of  the  easy  service  of  his  previous  life. 
A  few  months  before,  he  was  sent  to  Kingston 
with  a  load  of  sugar,  and  finding  a  vessel  on 
the  point  of  sailing  for  New  York  he  conceal- 
ed himself  on  board,  and  succeeded  in  effecting 
his  escape.  Arrived  in  New  York  he  begged 
his  way  to  Boston,  being  detained  on  the  road 
by  a  fever  caused  by  the  sudden  change  of 
climate,  and  arrived  foot-sore,  weary  and  sick 
at  heart,  little  expecting  the  happiness  that 
awaited  him. 

Before  long  Ambrose  grew  weary  of  the 
town,  and  as  his  health  had  never  been  good 
since  his  return  home,  Phrebe  sold  her  shop 
and  bought  the  cottage  in  which  I  found  her. 
Here  they  supported  themselves  comfortably 
enough  for  the  few  years  that  Ambrose  lived. 
But  the  hard  winters  of  New  England  were 
too  much  for  the  constitution  of  one  so  long 
accustomed  to  the  climate  of  the  tropics.  He 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.        237 

died  of  a  consumption,  lovingly  watched  over 
and  tenderly  mourned  by  his  faithful  Phoebe. 

****** 

Such  is  a  plain  narrative  of  the  incidents  of 
her  life,  which  I  gathered  from  Phosbe  Mallory 
in  the  course  of  my  acquaintance  with  her.  I 
think  that  they  might  have  been  invested  with 
a  good  deal  of  romantic  interest,  had  they 
fallen  into  the  right  hands.  But  such  as  I 
have  I  give  unto  you. 

Phoebe  always  averred  that  she  was  the  last 
surviving  slave  in  the  State;  and  as  I  could 
not  contradict  her,  I  was  willing  to  believe 
that  it  was  so.  I  confess  it  increased  my 
interest  in  her,  and  made  me  look  upon  her  in 
some  sort  as  an  historical  character.  And  I 
could  not  but  think  of  the  day  when  the  last 
American  slave  will  excite  a  feeling  in  the 
breast  of  some  future  inquirer,  somewhat 
analogous  to  that  created  by  the  sight  of  the 


238  PHtEBE    MALLORY  ; 

last  mouldering  fragment  of  the  Bastile.     May 
that  day  soon  arrive ! 

Several  years  ago  I  removed  from  the  city 
and  lost  sight  of  poor  Phoebe.  Not  long  since, 
having  a  leisure  day  in  town,  I  felt  strongly 
moved  to  go  and  see  if  she  were  yet  alive. 
Yielding  to  the  impulse,  I  took  the  well  re- 
membered road  that  led  by  her  hut.  But  it 
had  vanished  away,  and  in  its  place  stood  a 
fine  Gothic  cottage,  with  an  Egyptian  entab- 
lature at  one  end  supported  by  four  fluted 
Doric  pillars.  I  knew  at  the  first  glance  that 
it  would  be  of  no  avail  to  inquire  after  my  old 
friend  at  such  a  structure  as  this.  So  I  con- 
tinued my  stroll  till  I  came  to  the  village  about 
two  miles  off  There  I  inquired  of  the  first 
man  I  happened  to  meet,  whether  he  knew 
anything  of  the  fate  of  Phoabe  Mallory.  I  was 
in  luck  in  my  man ;  for  he  chanced  to  be  none 
other  than  good  master  Sexton  himself.  With 
the  cheerful  solemnity  which  marks  his  calling, 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  SLAVES.        239 

he  informed  me  that  she  had  died  about  three 
years  before  and  was  buried  in  the  church- 
yard over  against  which  we  stood.  I  asked 
him  to  show  me  her  grave,  which  he  did  with 
professional  alacrity.  It  is  the  third  grave 
beyond  the  elm  tree,  on  your  right  hand,  as 
you  enter  the  gate,  next  the  wall. 

I  could  not  but  feel  a  sense  of  satisfaction, 
mingled  with  regret,  at  the  loss  of  my  good 
old  friend,  to  think  that  the  last  relic  of 
Massachusetts'  slavery  lay  buried  beneath  my 
feet.  I  felt  proud  of  my  native  State  for  what 
she  had  done,  as  a  State,  to  mark  her  aversion 
to  slavery.  And  I  hoped  that  the  time  was 
not  far  distant  when  she  would  brush  aside 
the  cobweb  ties  which  prevent  her  from  telling 
the  hunter  of  men,  in  yet  more  emphatic  tones, 
that  her  fields  are  no  hunting-grounds  for  him. 

I  have  no  taste  for  monumental  memorials, 
as  a  general  thing.  At  least,  I  see  no  fitness 
in  attempting  to  preserve  the  memory  of 


240  PHCEBE    MALLORY. 

mediocrity  or  obscurity,  by  monuments  whose 
very  permanence  is  a  satire  on  the  forgotten 
names  they  bear.  But  I  have  no  quarrel 
with  the  feeling  which  prompts  men  to  mark 
with  marble  the  ground  where  the  truly 
great  repose ;  or  to  record  the  resting-place  of 
humbler  merit,  when  it  is  fairly  invested  with 
some  just  historic  interest.  Of  this  latter  class 
I  esteem  the  grave  of  Phosbe  Mallory.  And  I 
shall  think  it  neither  absurd  nor  extravagant, 
if,  within  a  few  months,  a  plain  white  marble 
slab  should  be  found  marking  the  spot  where 
she  lies,  with  an  inscription  somewhat  to  this 
effect :  — 

"HERE  RESTS  FROM  HER  LABORS, 
BENEATH  THE  FREE  SOIL  OF   MASSACHUSETTS. 

Pffbe  ittallorji, 

THE    LAST    SURVIVOR    OF    HER    SLAVES  !  " 
Dedham,  Massachusetts,  Nov.  1845. 


THE    FALCONER.  241 


&!)£  .falcoiur. 

BY    J.     R.     LOWELL. 

I  HAVE  a  falcon  swift  and  peerless 
As  e'er  was  cradled  in  the  pine, 
No  bird  had  ever  eye  so  fearless 
Or  wing  so  strong  as  this  of  mine  ; 
The  winds  not  better  love  to  pilot 
The  clouds  with  molten  gold  o'errun, 
Than  him,  a  little  burning  islet, 
A  star  above  the  sunken  sun. 

But  better  he  loves  the  lusty  morning 
When  the  last  white  star  yet  stands  at  bay, 
And  earth,  half-waked,  smiles  a  child's  fore- 
warning 
Of  the  longed-for  mother-kiss  of  day ; 

Then  with  a  lark's  heart  doth  he  tower 
21 


242  THE    FALCONER. 

By  a  glorious,  upward  instinct  drawn,  — 
No  bee  nestles  deeper  in  the  flower, 
Than  he  in  the  bursting  rose  of  dawn. 

What  joy  to  see  his  sails  uplifted 
Against  the  worst  that  gales  can  dare, 
Through  the  northwester's  surges  drifted, 
Bold  viking  of  the  sea  of  air ! 
His  eye  is  fierce,  yet  mildened  over 
With  something  of  a  dove-like  ruth, 
I  am  his  master  less  than  lover,  — 
His  short  and  simple  name  is  Truth. 

Whene'er  some  hoary  owl  of  Error 
Lags,  though  his  native  night  be  past, 
And  at  the  sunshine  hoots  his  terror, 
The  falcon  from  my  wrist  I  cast ; 
Swooping,  he  scares  the  birds  uncleanly 
That  in  the  holy  temple  prey, 
Then  in  the  blue  air  floats  serenely 
Above  their  hoarse  anathema. 


THE    FALCONER.  243 

The  herd  of  patriot  wolves,  that,  stealing, 
To  gorge  on  martyred  Freedom  run, 
Fly,  howling,  when  his  shadow,  wheeling, 
Flashes  between  them  and  the  sun ; 
Well  for  them  that  our  once  proud  eagle 
Forgets  his  empire  of  the  sky, 
And,  stript  of  every  emblem  regal, 
Does  buzzard's  work  for  slavery. 

Mount  up,  my  falcon  brave  and  kingly, 
Stoop  not  from  thy  majestic  height, 
The  terror  of  thy  shadow,  singly, 
Can  put  a  thousand  wrongs  to  flight ; 
Wherever  in  all  God's  dominions 
One  ugly  falsehood  lurks  apart, 
Let  the  dread  rustle  of  thy  pinions 
Send  palsy  to  its  traitor-heart. 

No  harmless  dove,  no  bird  that  singeth, 
Shudders  to  see  thee  overhead ; 
The  rush  of  thy  fierce  swooping  bringeth 
To  innocent  hearts  no  thrill  of  dread ; 


244  THE    FALCONER. 

Let  frauds  and  wrongs  and  falsehoods  shiver, 
For,  still,  between  them  and  the  sky, 
The  falcon  Truth  hangs  poised  forever, 
And  marks  them  with  his  vengeful  eye. 

Elmwood,  Nov.  26,  1845. 


IS    THERE    ANY    FRIEND  ?  245 


Is  tljere  ang  JFrt 

BY    ADIN    BALLOU. 

I  AM  a  slave.  The  hand  of  violence  holds 
me.  I  was  stolen  from  my  birth  by  one  who 
calls  himself  a  man,  a  republican  and  a  Chris- 
tian. He  says  I  am  rightfully  his  property, 
because  my  grandmother  was  kidnapped  from 
Africa,  and  my  mother  was  holden  a  slave 
by  his  father.  If  I  assert  that  I  am  a  man, 
notwithstanding  the  wrongs  done  to  my  pro- 
genitors, he  frowns,  and  seizing  the  scourge, 
bids  me  be  silent.  I  learn  that  this  nation  is 
professedly  republican,  and  has  declared  that 
all  men  are  inalienably  entitled  to  "  life,  LIB- 
ERTY, and  the  pursuit  of  liappiness"  I  hear 
that  they  are  called  Christians,  and  believe 
that  every  man  sJiould  do  unto  others  as  he  would 
be  done  unto.  Yet  /  am  a  slave,  and  treated  as 

a  beast,  not  as  a  brother  man.     I  have  thought 
21* 


246  IS    THERE    ANY    FRIEND  ? 

to  fly  to  some  distant  part  of  the  country ;  but 
I  hear  that  the  citizens  of  the  whole  nation  are 
in  a  league  to  return  me  to  my  master.  Some- 
times I  have  meditated  the  dreadful  alternative 
of  raising  an  insurrection  among  my  fellow- 
slaves,  and  thus  obtaining  my  rights ;  but  I  am 
told  the  whole  army,  navy,  militia  and  treasury 
of  the  nation  are  sworn  to  crush  the  attempt. 
I  have  proposed  to  petition  the  Congress  of 
the  Union  for  redress ;  but  I  am  apprised  that 
slave-holders  are  at  the  head  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  in  full  control  of  the  National 
Legislature ;  that  by  constitutional  league  they 
hold  political  power,  beyond  others,  equal  to 
three-fifths  of  their  human  cattle ;  and  that 
they  declare  slave  petitions  an  intolerable  in- 
sult to  their  dignity.  They  will  not  permit  a 
petition  from  slaves  to  be  received.  I  have 
turned  to  the  ministers  and  churches  of  re- 
ligion to  intercede  for  me.  A  few  have  wept 
and  prayed  and  plead  for  me;  but  the  mass 


IS    THERE    ANY    FRIEND  ?  247 

have  been  dumb,  and  some  of  the  most  influ- 
ential have  boldly  taken  sides  with  the  op- 
pressor—  using  all  their  eloquence,  learning 
and  sanctity  to  make  it  appear  that  God  wills, 
the  Bible  teaches,  and  the  Saviour  of  the  world 
approves  of,  SLAVERY.  I  have  cast  my  implor- 
ing eyes  upon  the  great  seats  and  professors  of 
literature  in  the  land,  but  with  no  better  re- 
sults. I  would  sue  for  sympathy  to  the  mer- 
chants, the  manufacturers,  the  bankers,  the 
wealthy  and  affluent ;  but  they  are  either  too 
busy  to  notice  me,  or  interested  with  the 
oppressor,  or  intermarried  with  his  family.  I 
would,  if  I  could,  hope  something  from  poli- 
tics ;  but  all  parties  are  alike  sworn  to  the 
same  compact,  at  least  till  it  can  be  altered, 
and  are  seeking  their  own  glory  rather  than  the 
slave's  redemption.  Moreover,  the  great  De- 
mocratic party,  whose  most  renowned  apostle 
taught  the  universal  equality  of  human  beings, 
in  their  natural  rights,  and  who  truly  asserted 


248  IS    THERE    ANY    FRIEND  ? 

"  that  one  hour  of  our  bondage  was  fraught 
with  more  misery  than  ages  of"  colonial  sub- 
jection to  England  —  this  very  party,  claiming 
to  be  of  and  for  the  common  people,  and  being 
in  power,  have  forcibly  annexed  a  vast  terri- 
tory to  the  nation,  out  of  complaisance  to 
slave-holders,  and  for  the  indefinite  extension 
of  their  oppressions.  I  would  cry  in  the  ears 
of  the  great  mass  of  working  men  for  help ; 
but  they  are  prejudiced  against  my  color; 
they  are  afraid  I  shall  come  and  dwell  among 
them  —  that  I  shall  associate  with  them,  and 
share  their  advantages;  they  had  rather  see 
me  and  my  posterity  forever  slaves,  than  run 
the  risk  of  being  annoyed  by  our  freedom. 
What  shall  I  do?  To  whom  shall  I  look? 
Whither  shall  I  turn  ?  Must  I,  must  my  child- 
ren, must  their  children,  and  all  our  children's 
children,  be  forever  slaves  ?  Is  there  no  friend  ? 
These  chains  !  these  scourges  !  these  insults  ! 
these  violent  separations  of  the  dearest  rela- 


IS    THERE    ANY    FRIEND  ?  249 

tives !  these  degradations  of  body  and  mind  ! 
this  ignorance  of  all  that  might  enoble  and 
bless !  these  groanings  of  spirit  for  liberty ! 
these  complicated  miseries !  THIS  SLAVERY  !  — 
must  they  be  eternal?  WOMAN,  tender,  sym- 
pathetic, affectionate,  persevering  woman,  I 
turn  to  God  and  thee.  Help  the  slave !  Think 
of  the  slave !  Plead  for  the  slave !  Labor  for 
the  slave !  Save  the  slave !  Be  thou  the 
sun  that  shall  melt  down  the  icy  hearts  of 
men  in  our  behalf;  that  shall  change  public 
sentiment  throughout  the  land ;  that  shall  give 
the  nation  a  new,  merciful  and  just  goverii- 
ment ;  that  shall  make  all  the  people  willing 
to  let  the  oppressed  go  free.  And  then  the 
blessings  and  gratitude  of  the  ransomed  shall 
be  thine  to  a  thousand  generations; — hover- 
ing over  thee  as  a  cloud  of  fragrant  incense, 
and  ascending  upward  to  Him  who  sitteth  in 
the  heavens,  —  our  common  Father. 

Hopedale,  Massachusetts,  U.  S. 


250  THE    SLAVE-MOTHER. 


BY    MARIA     LOWELL. 

HER  new-born  child  she  holdeth,  but  feels 
within  her  heart 

It  is  not  her's,  bnt  his  who  can  outbid  her  in 
the  mart ; 

And,  through  the  gloomy  midnight,  her  prayer 
goes  up  on  high,  — 

"  God  grant  my  little  helpless  one  in  helpless- 
ness may  die  ! 

If  she  must  live  to  womanhood,  oh  may  she 
never  know, 

Uncheered  by  mother's  happiness,  the  depth 
of  mother's  woe ; 

And  may  I  lie  within  my  grave,  before  that 
day  I  see, 

When  she  sits,  as  I  am  sitting,  with  a  slave- 
child  on  her  knee  ! " 


THE    SLAVE-MOTHER.  251 

The  little  arms  steal  upward,  and  then  upon 

her  breast 
She  feels  the  brown  and  velvet  hands  that 

never  are  at  rest ; 
No  sense  of  joy  they  waken,  but  thrills   of 

bitter  pain,  — 
She  thinks  of  him  who  counteth  o'er  the  gold 

those  hands  shall  gain. 

Then   on  her  face   she  looketh,  but  not  as 

mother  proud, 
And  seeth  how  her  features,  as  from  out  a 

dusky  cloud, 
Are   tenderly  unfolding,   far  softer  than  her 

own, 
And  how,  upon  the  rounded  cheek,  a  fairer 

light  is  thrown ; 

And  she  trembles  in  her  agony,  and  on  her 

prophet  heart 
There  drops    a   gloomy  shadow  down,  that 

never  will  depart ; 


252  THE    SLAVE-MOTHER. 

She  cannot  look  iipon  that  face,  where,  in  the 

child's  pure  bloom, 
Is  writ  with  such  dread  certainty  the  woman's 

loathsome  doom. 

She  cannot  bear  to  know  her  child  must  be  as 
she  hath  been, 

Yet  she  sees  but  one  deliverance  from  infamy 
and  sin, 

And  so  she  cries  at  midnight,  with  exceeding 
bitter  cry, 

"  God  grant  my  little  helpless  one  in  helpless- 
ness may  die  ! " 

Elmwood,  Nov.  26,  1845. 


WHAT    IS    ANTI-SLAVERY    WORK  ?  253 


iDljat  is  2lnti-0latW2  ttlork? 


BT     LUC  RETIA     MOTT. 

The  person  alluded  to  in  the  following  communication,  was 
placed  in  the  State's  Prison  in  Baltimore  owing  to  some  bankruptcy 
in  the  family  where  she  had  been  held  a  slave,  and  was  likely  to  be 
sold  away  from  all  her  relatives  and  friends.  A  feeling  appeal  was 
made  to  the  friends  of  Freedom  in  Philadelphia,  on  her  behalf,  more 
than  a  year  ago,  accompanied  by  the  suggestion  that  a  fund  should 
be  raised,  to  be  applied  to  such  cases,  and  advising  our  young  people 
to  retrench  their  expenses  in  superfluities,  in  order  to  have  it  in 
their  power  to  contribute  to  the  purchase  of  such  as  had  peculiar 
claim  on  the  sympathy  of  the  benevolent. 


MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  E.  H.  R. 

I  HAVE  not  been  unmindful  of  the  contents 
of  thy  letter.  Could  an  answer  have  been 
given  in  accordance  with  thy  wish  for  the  poor 
objects  of  thy  sympathy,  it  should  sooner  have 
been  done. 

After  a  free  and  full  discussion  of  the  ques- 
tion of  purchase,  at  a  meeting  of  our  Female 
Anti- Slavery  Society,  the  following  resolution 

was  passed  by  a  large  majority :  — 
22 


254  WHAT    IS    ANTI-SLAVERY   WORK? 

"Resolved,  That  while  we  deeply  sym- 
pathise with  those  who  are  making  efforts  for 
their  own  emancipation,  or  that  of  their 
relatives  and  friends,  by  soliciting  funds  to 
purchase  their  freedom  from  those  who  unjust- 
ly hold  them  in  bondage,  we  nevertheless 
must  decline  all  pecuniary  aid  in  such  pur- 
chase, regarding  contributions  for  this  object 
as  a  worse  than  useless  appropriation  of  money, 
and  as  an  indirect  support  of  slavery. 

"  Resolved,  That  we  will  discourage  such 
contributions,  because  those  who  give  aid  in 
this  way,  erroneously  imagine  they  are  pro- 
moting the  cause  of  human  freedom,  when 
they  may,  in  fact,  be  only  transferring  the 
bonds  to  others,  equally  entitled  to  their 
liberty." 

The  case  of  the  poor  victim  of  the  op- 
pressor's power,  so  feelingly  depicted,  is  a 
peculiarly  hard  one.  But,  were  the  circum- 
stances attending  the  imprisonment  and  sale  of 


WHAT    IS    ANTI-SLAVERY    WORK?  255 

other  inmates  of  that  horrible  prison,  made 
known,  we  might  find  most  of  them  claiming 
the  especial  sympathy  of  hearts  interested  in 
their  behalf.  Should  all  the  victims  of  this 
monstrous  oppression  be  purchased  from  the 
inhuman  trader  in  men,  he  would  doubtless 
advertise  for  more.  And  while  the  disposition 
of  the  slave-holder  is  unchanged,  and  the  trade 
is  legalized,  the  supply  would  be  furnished. 

It  is  worthy  of  consideration,  whether  such 
purchase  be  not  indeed  an  acknowledgment 
of  the  right  of  property  in  man,  and  therefore 
inconsistent  for  abolitionists  to  encourage. 

For  years,  my  sympathy  was  so  wrought 
upon  by  the  many  cases  of  peculiar  hardship, 
which  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  atro- 
cious system  of  American  slavery  discloses, 
that,  without  much  reflection,  I  contributed 
my  mite  toward  the  purchase  of  slaves.  But 
further  reflection  and  observation  convinced 
me  that  it  was  misdirected  benevolence  —  not 


256  WHAT    IS    ANTI-SLAVERY    WORK? 

in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  true  human- 
ity. The  sum  obtained  in  this  way  is  often 
used  for  the  purchase  of  other  slaves,  —  thus 
keeping  up  the  inducement,  either  to  kidnap 
the  poor  creatures  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  or  to 
"  breed  "  and  raise  them  for  sale  in  the  north- 
ern slave  States.  Here,  an  indirect  support 
is  given  to  the  system,  even  while  we  would 
fain  persuade  ourselves  that  we  are  aiding  in 
its  abolition.  If  the  sums,  raised  for  this 
object,  were  appropriated  to  the  enlightening 
of  the  public  mind  on  the  enormity  of  the 
whole  system,  how  much  more  effective  would 
it  be! 

Many  young  people,  in  this  city,  are  dis- 
posed to  curtail  their  expenses  in  dress,  and 
other  indulgences,  in  order  to  aid  in  the  circu- 
lation of  anti-slavery  truth,  through  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land.  We  have  evidence 
that  the  appeals  to  the  conscience  and  best 
interests  of  the  slave-holder,  are  not  made  in 


WHAT    IS    ANTI-SLAVERY    WORK?  257 

vain.  The  occasional  response  from  the 
South,  as  well  as  the  reiterated  cry  for  liberty 
from  our  Northern  land,  cheers  us  onward  in 
our  holy  enterprise. 

Let  us  then  extend  our  benevolence  to  the 
whole  class  of  "  the  suffering  and  the  dumb," 
rather  than   expend   our  means    in    acts    of 
sympathy  towards  a  few  isolated  cases. 
Thine  for  the  oppressed, 

L.  MOTT. 

Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania. 


22* 


258  GOD    AND    LIBERTY. 

• 

"  <8>0&  anir  Ctbertg." 

BY     CASSIUS     M.     C  LAY. 

FOR  full  four  thousand  years  or  more, 
The  glorious  sun  arose  and  set 
O'er  Heaven,  earth,  and  ocean's  shore, 
In  discord  met ;  — 

Till  God  himself,  worn  with  the  strife, 
Of  man  and  all  material  things, 
From  his  mysterious  presence,  life 
And  quiet  brings. 

First,  sounding  o'er  Judea's  shore, 
The  everlasting  fiat  fell : 
Earth,  ocean,  and  the  Heavens  adore  — 
And  hosts  of  Hell ! 

Delphos,  and  the  Olympian  Jove, 
And  Israel's  consecrated  fane, 
Awed  by  the  living  voice  of  love, 
Ne'er  speak  again ! 


GOD    AND    LIBERTY.  259 

Nor  mystic  priests,  nor  Magi  more, 
Darkly  disclose  the  will  above, 
Since  Christ  the  emblazoned  banner  bore, 
"  Man  !    God,  is  love  !  " 

From  tyrant  hands  the  sceptre  falls, 
From  the  assassin's  grasp,  the  sword ! 
Liberty  bursts  her  prison  walls, 
Quick,  at  the  word  ! 

Man  cannot  dam  the  river's  flood, 
He  cannot  stay  the  eagle's  flight, 
Nor  tame  the  tenants  of  the  wood, 
In  all  his  might ! 

Then,  "  spirit  of  the  chainless  mind  " 
That  rides  the  storm  —  the  ocean  wave, 
Quick  as  the  lightning  or  the  wind, 
Art  thou  a  slave  ? 

No  !  man  may  spurn  the  law  Divine, 
Like  Persia's  tyrant  chain  the  sea ! 
With  cords  and  walls  the  limbs  confine, 
The  mind  is  free  !  " 

Lexington,  Kentucky,  Nov.  1845. 


260  INFLUENCE    OF    EMIGRATION. 


lift  F  .emigration 


SUE     LE      SORT     DE      LA     RACE     AFRICAINE     AUX 
ETATS    UNI3    D'AMERIQUE. 

PAR     LIN  STANT. 

C'EST  surtout  aux  Etats  Unis  d'Amerique 
que  le  prejuge  de  couleur  a  atteint  son  apogee. 
Nous  ne  trouvons  dans  les  annalles  de  1'escla- 
vage  des  negres  aux  Antilles,  rien  qui  puisse 
lui  etre  compare.  II  n'est  done  pas  sans  interet 
de  rechercher  quelle  influence  exerce  sur  le 
sort  des  esclaves,  et  des  classes  de  couleur 
libres,  1'emigration  des  Europeens  aux  Etats 
Unis. 

La  condition  avilie  de  la  race  Africaine  dai 
les  Etats  de  1'Union  etant  bien  comprise, 
n'est  pas  difficile  de  concevoir  aussi  pourquoi 
chaque  Europeen  qui  aborde  ces  pays,  contri- 
bue  plus  ou  moins  directement  a  entretenir,  ou 


INFLUENCE    OP    EMIGRATION.  261 

plutot  a  accroitre,  le  prejuge  des  blancs  centre 
la  couleur  des  negres.  Ceux  qui  emigrent,  sont 
en  general,  des  individus  qui  vont  chercher  en 
pays  etrangers  les  moyens  d'ameliorer  leur 
fortune,  toutefois  lorsqu'ils  ne  sont  pas  des 
gens  qui  trouvent  plus  avantaguex  de  s'exiler 
volontairement  que  de  tomber  aux  mains  de 
la  justice  de  leur  pays.  Acquerir  des  richesses, 
voila  leur  but,  et  ils  tachent  d'y  aniver,  "  per 
fas  aut  nefas."  Sitot  que  les  emigrants  Euro- 
pe ens  touchent  le  sol  Americain,  le  premier 
spectacle  dont  ils  sont  frappes  c'est  1' existence 
de  deux  castes:  1'une  composee  de  blancs, 
c'est  a  dire,  de  privilegies  de  1'education,  des 
l^richesses,  des  emplois,  des  honneurs ;  1'autre 
tde  noirs,  c'est  a  dire,  de  parias  de  la  societe, 
d'opprimes.  Mus  par  leur  interet  prive,  les  emi- 
F  grants  se  mettent  naturellement  avec  les  riches 
et  les  puissants;  car  ils  ont  compris  que,  si 
quand  ils  sont  dans  le  Nord,  ils  se  permettent 
de  condamnerle  prejuge  de  couleur,  et  de  jnger 


262  INFLUENCE    OF    EMIGRATION. 

leurs  semblables,  non  pas  d'apres  la  teinte 
plus  ou  raoins  coloree  de  leur  epidemic ;  mais 
d'apres  leurs  qualites  morales  et  intellectuel- 
les ;  ou  bien  si,  quand  dans  le  sud,  ils  censurent 
la  pratique  ignoble  et  degradante  de  1'esclavage, 
—  peu  importe  d'ailleurs  la  forme  sous  laquelle 
se  raanifeste  leur  sentiment,  que  ce  soit  en 
actions  ou  en  paroles,  —  ils  seront  immediate- 
ment  consideres  comme  des  ennemis  de  la 
communante,  et  ils  verront  la  porte  de  la 
fortune  qu'ils  sont  venus  chercher,  se  fermer  a 
jamais  sur  eux.  Lorsque  la  morale  et  1'e- 
goi'sme  ont  a  lutter  ensemble,  bien  rarement 
voyons  lions  la  premiere  triompher.  Si  ces 
deux  antagonistes  ne  peuvent  s'accorder  et 
marcher  de  front,  1'homme  trouve  toujours  d< 
motifs  specieux  pour  ecouter  la  voix  insinuant 
de  son  interet  prive.  Telle  est  I'alternath 
dans  laquelle  se  trouve  I'emigrant  Europeen, 
qu'il  a  a  se  decider  entre  ses  devoirs  d'homme, 
de  membre  de  la  grande  famille  humaine,  et 


INFLUENCE    OF    EMIGRATION.  263 

son  egoi'sme,  son  bien  etre  particulier ;  c'est  at 
dire,  entre  la  pauvrete,  on  du  moins  la  medio- 
crite  et  des  desagremens ;  et  les  richesses,  les 
plaisirs  de  la  vie ;  son  choix  est  bientot  fait : 
il  prend  le  dernier  parti,  et  il  s'imit  aux  oppres- 
seurs  du  pauvre.  Chacun  d'eux  se  repete  ces 
paroles  du  premier  egoi'ste  et  du  premier 
assassin:  "  Suis-je  le  gardien  de  mon  frere?" 
paroles  qui  seront  aussi  im  jour  sa  propre 
condamnation. 

Port  au-Prince,  HaVti. 


Sonnet  in  ilUmorj)  of  (Eltjabetlj  Jrg. 

BY    ANNE     WARREN     WESTON. 
"  In  prison  and  ye  visited  me." 

THROUGHOUT  all  earth,  adown  all  coming  time, 
Where'er  the  Gospel's  promises  are  heard, 
There  shall  the  human  heart  be  thrilled  and 

stirred 

By  the  remembrance  of  a  love  sublime, 
That,  blotting  out  long  years  of  grief  and  crime, 
Forever  glorified  one  woman's  name. 
Friend  of  the  prisoner!   shall  not  thy  sweet 

fame, 

Like  that  of  Mary,  reach  to  every  clime  ? 
It  was  not  thine  to  pour  rich  perfumes  down 
Before  the  very  presence  of  thy  Lord; 
But,  in  the  poor,  the  outcast  and  abhorr'd, 
Shrinking  beneath  the  world's  unpitying  f] 
Thou  didst  the  image  of  thy  Saviour  see :  — 
Shall  He  not  say,  "  thou  didst  it  unto  me  ? " 

Wey mouth,  Massachusetts. 


THE    WORST    EVIL    OF    SLAVERY.  265 


U)or0t  €ml  of 


iroi 
the 


BY     WILLIAM     HOWITT. 

THE  worst  evil  of  slavery  in  a  country  is 
that  it  debauches  the  public  mind,  destroys 
the  public  sensibility,  makes  a  nation  a  nation 
of  Jesuits  and  hypocrites.  The  very  religion 
of  Christ  is  made  to  pander  to  the  sordid  evils 
of  slavery.  Its  sacred  sanction  is  pleaded  for 
its  existence,  while  it  is  carefully  withheld 
from  the  knowledge  of  the  slaves  ;  because 
very  men  who  plead  that  Christianity 
-sanctions  slavery  know  that  it  is  a  lie,  and 
need  no  convincing,  that  if  slaves  once  know 
the  truths  of  Christianity  they  will  feel  that 
PR  makes  them  free."  There  is  nothing  so 
shocking  to  contemplate  as  the  so-called  re- 

ligious slave-holder.     It  is   an    exhibition   so 
23 


266  THE    WORST    EVIL    OP    SLAVERY. 

dreadful  that  they  who  are  not  indignant  at  it 
must  soon  come  to  believe  Christianity  itself 
is  a  farce  and  an  instrument  of  selfish  policy. 
A  national  system  of  slavery  is  a  national  sys- 
tem for  the  inculcation  of  Atheism;  for  they 
who  can  once  come  to  believe  in  its  propriety, 
must  cease  to  believe  that  there  exists  a  God 
of  justice.  The  greatest  curse  that  can  befall 
an  empire  is  to  have  a  black  mass  of  slavery 
in  it;  because  that  is  perfectly  inseparable 
from  the  destruction  of  everything  that  is 
noble  in  the  public  character,  every  clear  re- 
cognition of  human  and  divine  right,  every 
glorious  sentiment  of  sound  benevolence 
onward  progress  of  man  and  his  loftier  d 
iiies.  Slavery  rots  the  heart  of  a  nationJM 
eats  out,  like  a  canker,  its  sentiment  of  the 
great,  the  noble,  and  the  generous ;  it  setlH 
on  the  defence  of  what  it  at  the  same  time  is 
conscious  is  vile  and  indefensible,  and  thus 
stiffens  it,  as  it  were,  into  a  doggedness  of  de- 


:;: 


THE    WORST    EVIL    OF    SLAVERY.  267 

fiant  evil,  most  mischievous  to  its  fame,  and 
most  revolting  to  contemplate.  This  is  the 
position  of  things  in  America  at  the  present 
moment,  and  that  great  republic,  the  United 

States, — 

"  Did  but  some  power  the  giftie  gie  it, 
To  see  itself  as  others  see  it,"  — 

would  rise  in  a  real  phrenzy  to  get  rid  of  the 
growing  curse  of  slavery;  not  because  it 
presses  on  the  slave  himself;  not  because 
men  are  brutalized,  and  women  worse  than 
brutalized  by  it ;  not  because  blood  and  tears 
are  made  to  flow,  because  flesh  is  torn  and  the 
spirit  is  trodden  out  of  the  negro  bosom  like 
sparks  of  fatal  fire;  —  but  because  the  com- 
ission  of  wrong,  the  perpetration  of  cruelty 
.d  crime  on  the  weak  and  defenceless ;  be- 
cause justice  to  man  and  honor  to  woman,  out- 
'raged  by  its  maintainance,  are  acting  worse 
than  the  possession  by  seven  devils  on  the 
national  mind;  —  are  confounding  all  princi- 


spirit 

sparks 
missio 
and  ci 


268  THE    WORST    EVIL    OF    SLAVERY. 

pies  of  right  and  wrong,  of  justice  and  magna- 
nimity in  it,  and  sinking  the  national  character 
from  that  glorious  eminence  which  it  assumed 
at  the  Revolution,  to  the  moral  position  in 
which  none  but  its  enemies  would  wish  to  see 
it.  America  must  continue  to  raise  a  joyous 
grin  on  the  face  of  Satan  ;  must  cast  a  practi- 
cal sneer  on  her  present  fundamental  principle 
that  "  Every  man  is  born  free  and  equal ; " 
must  stand  as  the  worst  of  obstacles  in  the 
path  of  Christianity,  and  the  growth  of  belief 
in  it;  and  must  disappoint  every  one  who 
finally  looked  toward  her  career  as  to  a  great 
and  unexampled  development  of  national 
policy  and  mind,  till  she  gives  freedom 
black  as  well  as  white  Americans. 

Clapton,  England. 


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